


The Mayfly Bride

by AnonymousMink



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Another slow burn I wish was a fast burn but somehow isnt, BAMF Darcy Lewis, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to almost friends to enemies to lovers, F/M, Idfk where this fic is going but I wish it would hurry up and get there, Some Fluff, Some angst, Some feels, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, morally ambiguous loki, tasertricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2020-08-11 12:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 78,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20153797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousMink/pseuds/AnonymousMink
Summary: Loki had scratched the skin bloody in the darkest hours of his cell, determined to rip the falsehood from his body. To carve away at the words that had teased at him for centuries.After all, surely you needed a soul to have a soul mate?—-Loki didn’t fall after the events of Puente Argente, instead he awaits his fate in an Asgardian jail cell. A fate that might just lead him to everything he has ever wanted. A crown, a kingdom, a queen. That is if he can recognise her for what she’s worth, and she can forgive him for being a complete and total douche bag.They may be written into each other’s skin, but that doesn’t mean they’re happy about it.





	1. Anomalies

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no we’re back on it again with this nonsense are we? Why can’t I escape these space idiots?! 😭 Okay okay so here’s another story that’s been pulling at my brain since before I finished Fruit - I’m still not entirely sure where it’s going (or what the update schedule will be like tbh) but I truly hope you enjoy it anyway!
> 
> And of course before this story begins I have to give a super, mega, GIGANTIC shout out to my personal writing soulmate DenseHumboldt for holding my hand and helping me get the first part of this out! I wouldn’t be writing without you, and honestly you are far too good an author to be tolerating me! 💜

Voices carried in the palace. 

Especially when they were shouting.

“_He tried to destroy Jotunheimm!” _

“_So did Thor! Do you mean to punish Loki for being more successful?” _

Loki sighed, staring up at the ceiling of the antechamber as he listened to the King and Queen of Asgard argue in the throne room beyond. It seemed absurd to him that they were still fighting over it now, they’d had months to decide his fate after all. Months he’d spent caged up in the dungeons, alone with nothing but his torturous mind and the burden of the truth.

He was a monster.

A wolf who had not known he wore the skin of a lamb until it had been stripped from him, leaving him bare and bleeding. A snarling, rabid creature without compassion. It all made sense now. Why he had never been worthy, why he had never been enough. Every dark instinct and selfish impulse neatly explained away by his own biology.

Odin should have let him die on the Bifröst.

He was a Jötunn, and worse the son of Asgard’s worst enemy. He was everything wrong and yet still he had fought for his _father’s _approval, betrayed and betraying in turn until everything was lies and pain and it was easy to release his hold on life.

It had been an unburdening to let go after that last, worst battle. His world had been taken from him so it seemed only right to take himself from the world. For a moment he’d felt weightless, _free, _a millennia of disappointment and lies far beyond him as he gave himself to the cold, cold stars.

But it hadn’t lasted. He’d never been that lucky.

_“Husband, listen-” _

The voices got fainter and louder in turn, he could picture them pacing. His father’s face set in stone, his mother’s hands twisting together in anguish. Only Odin wasn’t his father, and Frigga…

Well, he had no family anymore. 

Loki bit his tongue, tasting copper as his hand rose on instinct to the inside of his arm where a fate’s ink had marked him. He wrenched it away immediately, fists clenched so tight his nails scored into the soft flesh of his palms. There was no comfort to be found there either.

Not anymore.

The words written into his skin since his infancy were a falsehood, one he’d scratched his skin bloody in darkest hours of his cell in an attempt to remove. Determined to carve away at the words that had teased at him for centuries.

The soul mark.

He saw them at last for what they were, another clever ploy from Odin to keep him in line, a glamour to distract him from questioning his reality.

After all, surely you needed a soul to have a soul mate?

“Perhaps you should knock,” Loki spat at the head of the guard, something between his ribs twisting tighter and tighter with every passing moment, “I would hate to die of old age and deny Odin his fun.” 

“Silence, prisoner,” the man snapped back.

_Bjorn Brantson, _that was his name. Once Loki would have made the effort to remember him for later retribution but it all seemed a little pointless now. 

“As you wish,” he sighed, turning away instead, “I look forward to seeing how your King reacts when he discovers you eavesdropped for so long at his door.”

He saw the indecision play out over Brantson’s face from the corner of his eye. Counting down in his head from three until the guard raised his gauntleted hand and hammered at the door. A petty victory but a victory nevertheless. Perhaps even his last.

“Your Majesties,” Brantson called, just a sliver of insecurity in the hardness of his voice, “we have brought the prisoner.” 

“_Enter,” _Odin roared, the door swinging open at last with a thunderous boom that shook dust from the ceiling. 

What a merry party they made as they entered. Four guards holding his chains as Loki was marched into the room. It wasn’t even the _ main _throne room, but a smaller affair designed for more intimate meetings. 

Loki obviously didn’t deserve the full pomp and ceremony his title might once have allowed him.

Still, something’s didn’t change no matter the location, Odin was still sat high on his throne. His face set in stone as he waited. Frigga was less stoic, looking paler than he remembered. Her face drawn even as she smiled at him, stepping forward to greet him with her usual quiet steadiness. 

“Mother, what a delightful surprise,” he covered his bitterness in honey, acidic sweetness dripping off every word, “come to see me off?” 

“Loki, please,” Frigga murmured, squeezing his hands tightly, “don’t make this worse than it is.” 

“Come, you wouldn’t deny me a little gallows humour would you?” He asked, steeling himself against the weakness the sight of her awoke in him. The desperate urge even now to cling to her skirts and beg her to tell her this was all a lie, a nightmare he would soon wake up for. The time for that had long since passed. “But where is my golden brother? Did Thor not wish to say his fond farewells?”

He made a show of peering around the empty room, heart thundering uncomfortably in his throat even as he strove to appear utterly unaffected.

“Thor is fixing the damage you have wrought,” Odin rumbled, “You have treated the realms as insects to be crushed, your treasonous lies exposing us to war. You have abused your abilities and position against those who have less than yourself.” 

_ Less than himself. _

He couldn’t help but scoff. As if there were any creature on any planet in any _ universe _ who had less than him. Wretched beast that he was. He had nothing anymore. No name, no family, no _ hope. _

If Odin thought to cow him with the fear of death he was sorely mistaken. Loki _ welcomed _ it now.

Odin rose in all his stately grandeur, Loki’s head held high as he awaited the final proclamation. 

“Guards, bring him, it is time we test the new Bifröst.” 

The words hit him between the ribs, momentarily off balance as he stared up at the man he’d once called father. He’d heard rumours they’d repaired it after his little… incident but he had never expected to see it again himself. 

“_Banishment? _” He asked, keeping his tongue sharp even as he reeled, “surely you jest? I think I’d prefer execution.” 

“I know you would,” Odin’s mouth was a thin line, his expression carved in granite as he rose to his feet, “death is easy, Loki, living will be your punishment. Stripped of all your titles and powers, you will live your life as one of those you would have so easily destroyed. I cannot send you to Jotunnheim but perhaps Midgard will serve you just as well” Titles that weren’t his. Powers that festered from an icy source. Loki bit his teeth together as the guards began to pull at his chains, “Loki Laufeyson, I hearby banish you from the realm of Asgard, until such time, if ever, that you are worthy to return.” 

He could taste ashes on his tongue, cold fury in his veins as he was pulled away. 

That was the ultimate punishment was it not? The final cruelty? Surely Odin knew just as well as he did, Loki could never be worthy…

—-

Everything was bleeping.

_Everything._

Darcy flailed, nearly knocking her coffee smack off the side as all the machinery in the lab started going off at once, drowning out her music in a screeching mess of sounds. 

“Jane!” She shouted, pushing her chair back across the room and looking for the scatterbrained scientist, “_Jane!” _

Nothing. 

Because of course there was nothing because Jane wasn’t even _ there._ She was in London looking after her mom, Eric was off being a super secret squirrel with Shield, and Darcy was alone with a gazillion dollars worth of weird equipment in the middle of the desert and it was _ all freaking bleeping. _

“Shit.” She swore, head ringing as she flipped open the three inch thick binder Jane had left her, “_shit.” _

As far as she was concerned it was all in French, only not because Darcy understood French, this was in Klingon. Flicking the pages back and forth she cringed as the sounds got louder, “atmo-rig, locator point, pressure sensors, _ coffee machine, _ughhhh what the hell!” 

Grabbing her phone she hit speed dial. 

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, hopping from foot to foot as it rang and rang, “answer your phone, Jane! _ Answer your damn phone!” _

“_The user you’re calling cannot be reached right now, please lea-” _

“_Damn_!” She yelled, hanging up and whirling on the room again. The machines stared back at her defiantly, despite not having eyes, knowing very well that their existence was worth more to science than hers was.

If they blew up now they’d get lovingly repaired by Jane, she’d probably just get fired and flunk her college degree. She’d probably wind up living in a cardboard box in an alleyway somewhere begging strangers for their WiFi passwords.

Nope. It couldn’t happen. Darcy wouldn’t _ let _it happen. 

“Okay, you’ve been trained for this,” she murmured to herself, eyeing them up warily from her position, “you can’t let the robots win. You can _ never _let the robots win.” 

Sucking in a deep breath she launched herself forward, darting from one frankensteined monstrosity to next and flicking switches like an underpaid extra in a sci-fi series. She was three down before she started making sense of what she was seeing, scribbling down the results as she went. 

The atmospheric pressure was going crazy, a series of anomalous results swirling around a familiar set of coordinates in the middle of the desert. 

“Oh double shit_.” _

She’d been around astrophysicists long enough to recognise what it meant. Leaving the machines to scream she grabbed the keys from the side and ran for the door.

If they blew up she _ might _ get fired, if Jane found out she’d left her Viking god boy-toy in the middle of the desert all night she would _ definitely _get fired.

Grumbling to herself Darcy threw the van into gear. Clouds had gathered, an ominous whirl of atmospheric fuckery that only got worse the further she drove. She gritted her teeth against it as, defying all evolutionary imperatives to the contrary, she drove directly into the storm. 

A funnel was gathering, a tornado of energy plummeting into the sand and tossing a figure with it like a rag doll. Screeching to a halt she ducked out of the car, squinting her eyes against the sand being kicked up as she fought her way towards the source. Trust Thor to finally show up again the _ one _time Jane wasn’t in the country. 

That was… if it _ was _ Thor. 

Oh no. She didn’t like that thought. She didn’t like that thought at all. 

It barged in completely uninvited and kicked her in the metaphorical balls. It had to be Thor, right? He’d promised to come back after all, and this was _exactly_ where he’d left them. 

But then… but then what if it _ wasn’t?_

What if she’d just gone rushing out into the desert like a crazy person after some new Asgardian weirdo? Or worse, _ another _ killer robot? 

The memory choked her, the sand becoming smoke in her throat as she was forced to confront a super-evil that shouldn’t even have _ existed. _ Watching it toy with Thor and his buds like a cat with a mouse, burning down buildings like they were _ nothing_. 

And then when he’d slapped Thor down… 

She swallowed down bile, forcing herself to cage the memory even as her hand tightened on the taser she kept strapped to her side ever since The Asgardian Incident 1.0. She should have called Shield, that would have been the responsible, sensible, not-fucking-idiotic thing to do, but it was too late now.

She was alone in the middle of the desert with _ something _and she’d just have to woman up and face it.

_Hey_, she tried to console herself as she edged forward again, _at least being murdered by aliens would make for a fun obituary._

“Please be Thor,” she whispered setting one foot in front of the other as her heart threatened to beat straight out of her chest, “_please…” _

The wind died down all at once. The clouds rumbling as they drew away, leaving a prone figure lying in the centre of a familiar crop circle. Sand circle. _ Whatever. _

Long, pale fingered hands braced against the ground, a sharp planed face turning upwards as green eyes met hers. 

Not Thor. 

_ Definitely _not Thor. 

Not a giant robot though either, which was a comfort but yaknow, not much of one.

“Oh no.” She muttered as she held her taser even harder, embedding the grooves of the plastic into her skin like a scar, “who exactly are you meant to be?” 

He blinked at her, holding her gaze for an endless unreadable moment before he sighed, “You really shouldn’t be here.”

His voice was lyrical and smooth, ringing in her ears as she stared at the stranger with absolute disbelief.

_ It couldn’t be. _

Her wrist stung, the words she’d kept hidden there for as long as she remembered burning into her as her fingers clenched on instinct. Electricity crackled through the air, bright in the darkness as she tasered him.


	2. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so so glad to have you guys back on board for another lil descent into Tasertricks madness! I truly hope you enjoy the crazy! 💜

There was no way the man lying unconscious on her sofa was her soulmate.

_Was there?_

Sure, he was cute, but he was also an actual legitimate alien from space and Darcy really didn’t have the brain power to deal with that right now.

Pacing awkwardly across the floor of the house she was sharing with Jane she fiddled with her sleeve. The words on her wrist ached beneath the layers and layers of fabric she’d buried them in.

‘You really shouldn’t be here.’

She’d taken them as permission from an early age to do all sorts of stupid shit she really shouldn’t do. Y’know, just in case her soulmate was lurking in an abandoned theme park or whatever. Which would have been kind of awesome, if ultimately unlikely.

They’d fueled her when her mom told her she shouldn’t hang her hopes on a big name university like Culver, and again when her tutor told her she shouldn’t apply for an internship with an astrophysicist. They’d become a battle cry on her wrist when she’d charged into the fray against a fire breathing robot monster from hell.

But that didn’t mean she actually wanted to share them with anyone else.

It sounded stupid, they were soul marks after all, they kind of necessitated another person but Darcy wasn’t so sure that’s what she wanted. After she’d gotten over her childish infatuation with the idea that she was special, one in a hundred with a super magical soul mate for life, she’d seen them for what they really were to her.

A complete and total _buzzkill_.

No one wanted to date a girl just waiting to be claimed after all, not even casually. It would have been easier to get a boyfriend if she’d had the literal plague than with those stupid words tattooed on her wrist. Her entire young life was spent on the outside looking in as everyone else got to choose their own fate.

She resented the shit out of it, out of having the freedom of choice taken away from her. Some cosmic hand whacking a sentence on her skin and expecting her to build her life around it. To hold off on living until whoever they were bothered to show up to sweep her off her feet.

Well that wasn’t happening. She didn’t care what the world thought, there was no way she was changing her life completely just because some guy said some words.

She glared down at the prone figure again, sure he was cute. _Really_ cute. Just the kinda guy she might have designed for herself if she had the chance, dark hair, sharp cheekbones. So tall his legs were hanging off the sofa. But that didn’t matter.

If he wanted to be a part of her life it would be on her terms.

That was a stone cold guarantee.

She might just put some lipgloss on whilst he slept though, and tidy her hair up. For unrelated reasons.

—-

Loki ached. Lost to a bone deep weariness unlike anything he’d ever felt before. It seemed to coil around his limbs, dragging him down even as he struggled against it.

He cracked his eyes open against the pain, squinting into the bright overhead light for a full ten seconds before he began to make sense of what he was seeing.

The ceiling was wrong. Greying stucco and harsh fluorescent bulbs where clean white tiles should have been. No gentle golden glow to ease him into waking.

This wasn’t his cell.

“Hey… uh... you awake yet?”

This wasn’t Asgard.

The memories returned in a heady rush, the voice attaching itself to a face in his mind's eye. Somehow intimately familiar to him even though he’d only seen it for a moment. Pale cheeks, full lips, wide, worried blue eyes.

“_You_.” He was on his feet in a second, stomach lurching as his body protested the movement. Weak in a way he hadn’t been anticipating when he’d been cast out.

The woman startled back, her hands clenched tight around a slim black device. He recognized that too, hackles rising as she raised it level with his chest. The electrical weapon that had felled him like he was a tree.

“Woah - back up, dude,” she shouted, waving it wildly at him as panic brightened her eyes, “no sudden movements.”

He stilled, jaw clenching as he reached instinctively for magic that wasn’t there. The familiar warmth of it distant and cold now, like someone had taken a knife and severed his ties to it one by one. Leaving him hollow and off balance.

“_Who are you?_” He demanded, the words coming out ragged and strained.

He had to know. Had to make sense of it. Of the words she’d spoken to him, the cursed sentence that had been scratched into his skin since infancy. The one he truly believed to be another lie.

She wasn’t real. She couldn’t be real.

And she certainly couldn’t be _here_.

“It’s my apartment,” she shot back, letting out a huff of indignation even though she was clearly visibly frightened, “so why don’t you tell me who _you_ are first, and what exactly you want with me and my planet? Then… then we can go from there.”

Once he might have backed away, accepted her hesitancy and re-approached with the charm he had spent so long perfecting. Instead he drew himself up to his full height, banishing the panic currently squeezing his chest like a vice behind a thin veneer of fury as he glowered down at her, “I am Loki Laufeyson, Prince of Asgard, Rightful King of Jötunnheim, and God of Mischief. What could I _possibly_ want with you or your pitiful little realm.”

She blinked at him for a long moment, cherry-red lips parted on a silent gasp.

“No way,” her hands were shaking, all the color draining from her face as she looked up at him in horror, “_Loki_? As in ‘_Thor’s-evil-brother-Loki?’_”

The knife twisted inside of him. Even here, in this backwater scrap of a realm, he couldn’t escape it. He felt it in every cell of his being as she stumbled away from him, her shoulders held tense like she was worried he might attack at any moment.

Like he was a monster.

Swallowing harshly, he gave her a mocking bow, “the very same.”

“Oh no,” she whispered, pulling at the ends of her hair as she stared at him in unabashed horror, “Oh God no. I need to call Jane, or Shield. I am so not equipped to deal with this.”

“Your name, mortal.” He demanded, frustration sharpening his tongue. His chest a hotbed of uncertainty that seemed intent on devouring him whole, “I would rather not ask again.”

“Why do you care?” Her full lips had thinned into a line, eyes flashing like fire as she tipped her chin up at him defiantly, “You didn’t bother to ask the last time we met. Or don’t you remember? You were a little busy trying to _burn us all alive_ after all.”

And even worse. She already knew him. He tried to remember her in the chaos of that day in the desert but to no avail.

“Yes well, I was having a difficult week,” he said, lowering his voice as he advanced on her, “now if you won’t tell me your name, perhaps you’d be so good as to show me your mark so I may move on from this farce.”

Every word out of her mouth made it more clear that he must have been mistaken. There was no possible way this creature could have been his bonded. She was attractive enough, he supposed, even beneath the endless layers she’d shrouded herself in, but she was also desperately _ordinary_. A mortal, a Midgardian even, a stubborn child snapping at him as he fought for control over the situation.

One look was all it would take. A quick sweep of his gaze to prove that she wasn’t his at all. That this was all a freakish coincidence, a detour on his journey to better things.

—-

“What? Dude, no way.”

She backed up on instinct, wishing she’d just left him the desert like any sane person would’ve done.

Any trace of attraction she might have felt for him had vanished in the waking world, replaced by the choking taste of smoke on the back of her tongue and the distant memory of frightened shouts.

This man was dangerous and she was alone with him in the middle of nowhere.

“How- how do you even know I have a mark? Huh?” She backed up another step, her hand tight against her taser as she tried desperately to think through the blood pounding in her ears.

She should electrocute him again. Like _now_. She raised the weapon, sharpening her aim before stumbling. Pain lancing through her as she stumbled ass-first into the side table.

That was all it took.

One stupid misstep and he was on her, filling up her vision as he caught her before she could fall. Long fingers burnt against her spine as he held her upright, his other hand trapping her wrist. The taser fell limply from her hand, landing with a pathetic little clatter and taking her hope with it.

“Really,” his voice had dropped low, rubbing down her spine like velvet as he held tight to her, breath hot against her cheek, “let’s not drag this out, shall we?”

Oh God she was panicking.

This was a panic attack. A full blown panic attack. A…A... _Panic_.

_Damn_. She was the dumbest woman on the planet, on several planets, cursing herself silently as she remembered the panic button Shield insisted all its assets carried. The one hanging on her keychain still.

The keychain in her pocket.

She just had to get to it before he murdered her.

Sucking in a deep breath, she fought against the instinct to struggle, going still in his grip instead.

“Show me yours first,” the words were so much less ballsy than she hoped, coming out in a whisper as she made a show of not fighting him.

His grip tightened just a fraction, eyes flashing like he was going to insist again. She wasn’t certain but she was pretty sure this was exactly what bunnies felt the moment before they went under the tires of an eighteen wheeler. Dazzled by the headlights even as death approached on spinning wheels.

“Please,” She whispered, making the words just a tiny bit pathetic, “you’re hurting me.”

He dropped her all at once, pulling away like she’d burnt him as something almost like shame painted his features. Not that it _was_ shame of course. No one who could burn down half a town over a goddamn sibling rivalry was capable of that kind of emotion.

He shook his head, rolling his eyes at her like she was a petulant child as he pulled off his coat.

“Very well,” he sighed, the leather pooling at his feet as her rolled up the sleeve of his tunic, “if it will get this over with any quicker.”

Oh god, she was blushing.

Why was she blushing? 

The guy was insane, insane and dangerous. It didn’t matter how toned and lean his arms were. He was an attempted murderer, probably an _actual_ murderer for all she knew, come to wreak havoc on Earth in retribution for getting his ass kicked by his brother.

If… if he had gotten his ass kicked by his brother, no one had heard from Thor since that day in the desert after all. Maybe Thor hadn’t won. Maybe Loki had. Maybe this was all some sort of ruse to destroy another planet and…

Her fingers hit cool metal and plastic, heart lodging itself behind her teeth as she seized hold of the keychain in her pocket. Jamming the button so hard she was sure she heard the plastic crack, squeezing it over and over until she was certain Shield would get the message.

“Here.” He lifted his arm and her heart stopped completely.

“_Damn_.”

All the breath left her body at once, the button falling from her slack fingers as she took it in. Her messy handwriting scrawled over marble skin like graffiti in a church.

‘_Oh no. Who are you meant to be?_’

It was already starting to turn gold. His eyes widened ever so slightly as he saw it too. The gilding process only began once the words had been said, a joyous occasion, gold for romantic love, silver for platonic. Either way a treasure, the physical celebration of two souls finding each other.

She felt sick.

“They can’t possibly be yours,” she might have been offended by the absolute affront in his voice if she didn’t wholeheartedly agree with him. Watching as he pulled his sleeve back down sharply.

“If I tell you they’re not, will you go away please?” It was a ghost of a joke, her tongue heavy in her mouth as she fought to swallow.

“Show me yours.”

She startled back at the sudden demand, his eyes cold and sharp like broken glass as they pinned her in place. The temperature plummeted around her, a chill that seemed to go straight to her bones as he advanced.

“I really don’t want to.”

“Show me.”

“_You_ really don’t want me to either.”

If she didn’t look at hers maybe it wouldn’t be real. Maybe it would all still be a coincidence, a nightmare she’d wake up from any second now.

_Annny_ second.

He made a sound of absolute frustration, an honest to god growl as he lunged at her. Instinct kicked in, booting her square in the gut as she dove out of the way, yanking her taser up at the exact same moment the front door exploded.

“On the ground! Hands behind your head!”

_Shield_.

The relief almost crushed her, half dizzy with it as she rolled awkwardly behind the agents.

He didn’t look at them. Not once. His gaze fixed wholly and completely on her as they jostled him backwards. His expression tattooed itself into her mind, heart pounding as she met his eyes.

Rage.

Icy, absolute rage.

She winced, throat tight with a feeling she couldn’t name even as she glared right back at him. She didn’t owe him anything. He’d tried to kill her. He’d tried to kill Jane and Eric and Thor.

Forget that guy.

“Miss Lewis? Are you alright?” Agent Coulson had appeared at her side, her own face staring back at her in his shiny sunglasses.

She almost didn’t recognize herself. She was too pale, too shaken. Looking very much like someone who’d just had their world turned upside down and sideways.

Which, to be fair, she had.

“What? Yeah,” she nodded vigorously, forcing a rictus grin she couldn’t feel, “yeah totally. Damn you got here fast though.”

“We were already on our way,” he nodded with an easy smile, a welcomely familiar face in the chaos, “we registered the atmospheric anomaly and thought it was probably best to check it out. So, who's your friend?”

He gestured back to Loki and this time she didn’t look away. Her jaw set as she met his gaze across the room, holding firm as she tipped her chin up at him defiantly.

“He’s…” An attempted murderer. A total jerk. Maybe possibly my soulmate, “he’s Thor’s brother.”

Coulson’s eyebrows rose, “The one who caused the damage last year?”

“Yup.” She didn’t blink, “that’s the one.”

“Great, more aliens,” Coulson sighed, turning to look at the scene, “I guess we better take him to the closest base, Jefferson, load him in the van. You did the right thing calling us in, Miss Lewis.”

She had. She totally had. And she didn’t feel guilty about it in the slightest.

“Yeah well,” she shrugged, “weird anomalies are our thing, murderous aliens are your thing.”

“I’ll have one of the agents debrief you here,” he nodded, “then you can get back to your sky watching.”

“The only thing I’m getting back to is a stiff drink,”

Or twelve.

She watched them leave, giving the short-and-strictly-scientific version of events to one agent as another very nicely put her door back up. Waving from the window with shaking fingers when the convoy pulled away at last.

She didn’t let herself relax until they’d vanished beyond the horizon and the dust had settled on the road again. Shuddering as she turned away, she itched at the layers covering her wrist.

She wouldn’t look. Not now. Not ever.


	3. Fall Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the updates are more sporadic on this fic but she’s being a beast to wrangle into shape! These kids do what they want and we all know it 😭
> 
> Still mega thanks to everyone giving it a shot, I love you all more than words can say! 💜💜💜

Oh what sweet irony, to begin the day in one cell and end it in another.

He could have fought the mortals off he supposed, even without his powers he knew more of combat than they could learn in a dozen life times, but he didn’t see the point. Momentarily struck dumb by the revelations of the day and willing to be carried by fates hand a little longer.

This cell was less auspicious that the first, a dull little room with concrete floors and a pane of mirrored glass separating him from the world beyond. It was furnished simply, a steel table bolted to the floor along with two heavy chairs. An interrogation room. Not that he had an interrogator.

No, he was alone again, just him and the lie of his reflection.

He studied himself, reaching up automatically to rub at the inside of his right arm. The skin beneath his tunic _ burned _. The memory of gold danced behind his eyes, thin threads of it twisting into his skin even now.

He knew what it meant. Everyone did. It was ingrained in their history, the reason even the unmarked wore gold bands on their fingers when they were wedded. It meant she was his.

And he couldn’t _ stand _it.

He’d waited forever for her. _ Wanted. _ Impatient and furious and desperate in turns as the centuries passed and she made no effort at appearing. There were days when he hated her as much as he longed for her, looking for her in the face of every soul he met. Spine tensing at every introduction _ just in case. _

Every flirtation had felt like a betrayal, every dalliance a stain against his soul as he _ waited. _Contenting himself with fantasies of who she might be, a foreign princess perhaps, or a fierce warrior.

Whoever she was she would be intelligent of course, quick witted and cunning. Powerful too, he had no doubt of that, if she were to truly be his equal she’d have to be. But more than that she would be _ devoted. _

Absolutely loyal to him and him alone. 

The one soul in the universe he would not have to compete with Thor for, the one who would choose him first every time. As he would choose her. A bond of trust that ran deeper than anything understood in the known realms, one he had _ clung _ too every time he was passed over. Every time he was ignored in favour of the golden child, or scorned for his ways or abilities.

She wouldn’t be like them.

She would be _ his. _

Oh how wrong he’d been. The fates had deemed fit to make his _ equal _ a lowly mortal. A may-fly bride who already stood for his brother.

A woman who couldn’t even bear to _ look _ at him. 

Perhaps these Midgardians with their mortal weapons would succeed where Odin had failed and put him out of his misery for good this time.

“Oh how you’ve fallen, son of Laufey.”

Loki whirled on his heel, shoulders tense as he reached for power he no longer had.

The intruder towered over him, a projection stinking of magic. It’s spindly blue hands flexed with too many thumbs, teeth red and exposed in its mouth. If it had eyes Loki couldn’t see them, half of its face hidden behind a low black hood and the rest framed in sharp metal workings.

This was no Midgardian agent.

Loki tilted his head in the merest hint of acknowledgment, keeping his countenance impassive even as he seethed at the interruption, “And who exactly are you?” 

“The bringer of your salvation,” the creature bowed deeply, “my great master has learned of your plight, son of Jotunheim, and would offer you redemption. He would give you nothing less than everything you have ever desired.”

What was that old Midgardian saying again? 

_ Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes? _

Jaw clenched Loki raised an eyebrow at the being, absolutely blasé as he made a show of plucking at the cuff of his sleeve, “really? And what would that be then?”

“What else?” It drew itself upwards and Loki got the impression that if it indeed had eyes they would be _ burning, _ “you are a king, my master would give you a kingdom. _ This _ kingdom even. The mortals are crying out to be ruled, after all. They need a strong hand, _ your _hand, someone far better suited to guide them than the Son of Odin.” 

The words were knives, slicing between the plates of armour he had long since built around himself and lodging themselves deep within his chest. An inescapable pain that the words made fresh again.

He had been raised to be a king when really he was a monster. And now… now he was nothing at all.

“I fear you have wasted your journey, oh _ harbinger_,” he sneered, bitterness dripping from his tongue as he turned on the creature, “I have nothing to offer your master, whoever he is. You would have better luck asking the mortals beyond, we are much the same in power now.”

“Ah but that is where you’re wrong,” the being’s face twisted into a hideous mockery of a smile, lipless and bloody, “Odin Allfather’s spells can only bind an Asgardian, are _ you _ an Asgardian?”

He froze, heart beating blackly in his chest as his gaze snapped upwards. 

No… he couldn’t mean…

“And then there’s the girl…” the creature continued, its attention focused razor sharp against Loki’s hidden mark, “you can have her too of course. Just as you like.”

It was a threat, even dressed in silk. Loki bristled, nerves snapping as he fought to keep his face still. 

“And _ why _ exactly does he intend to gift me all these glories?” He asked coldly, teeth gritted against the urge to strike at the projection even now, no matter how futile the gesture would be.

“The great Thanos sees potential in you, and he asks only a trifle in return.” Ah yes, here it was, _ the price. _ Loki waited unflinchingly for it to continue. “There is an object he would acquire, one he thinks you might be particularly gifted in locating. Find him the Tesseract and in return he will give you _ everything. _ A crown, a kingdom, an army with which to conquer it... _ a queen _.”

“Hmm.” Loki turned away, making a show of dismissing the creature even as his mind rebelled. A thousand thousand thoughts fighting for control of him, “I will consider it.”

“We will give you time, _ Laufeyson _, but know this, my masters patience cannot last forever.”

He could feel its irritation washing over him, granting it only a flick of his fingers in acknowledgement. Waiting until the phantom gaze had faded from his spine before he let his composure fall.

Someone had filled his chest with coals. Embers scorching into his innards as he paced the meager confines of his cell.

Loki did not like threats, even ones disguised as _ gifts._ Nothing was free. _ Nothing_. If Thanos, the mad Titan himself, wanted an infinity stone it was for a reason and it would come with a heavy price - no matter how sweet a boon he offered in return was. 

And it was _sweet_. 

His mind slipped from him, conjuring fantasies of high vaulted palaces of his own. Of himself, seated high on a throne, a benevolent god above an adoring population. Respected. _ Worshipped _ . He felt arms wrap loosely around his shoulders, vanilla and spice filling his head as full lips brushed his ear. Her voice sweet and ever so slightly mocking as she whispered, “_where’s my throne then, oh mighty king?” _

The image was too vivid, too _ real, _he fought it back with a shudder. Hands clenched tight as his mind betrayed him, he had no space in his future for a brittle mortal girl who couldn’t bear to look at him.

No, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not when there was real worth in what the creature had said, the meat buried beneath pretty threats and base flattery. 

_ The Tesseract… _

He had forgotten it was on Midgard. 

Loki let his studies on it rise to the surface of his mind, washing away the rest as plans spiralled out like the spokes of a wheel. He could use it and use it well. 

And then there was the _ other _ matter. His magic. 

If it was true, if Odin could only use the magic of Asgard to _ bind _ the magic of Asgard, then a whole new world of possibilities would open up to him. A world where he needed no gracious hand to give him what was his by _ right, _one where he could take it himself. The Tesseract, a crown, a kingdom and so much more besides.

Squeezing his eyes shut he reached inside himself, dragging his senses over the darkest most secret part of his soul. The icy tumour that had grown in him since his birth, awoken by frost-magic and spreading ever since. Tainting him from the inside out.

It was still there. Cold and monstrous and _ pulsing _ with unfamiliar magic. 

—-

Darcy Lewis didn’t look at the mark.

She didn’t look at it when she was cleaning dusty boot prints off the living room floor. She didn’t look at it when she left new messages for Jane and Eric giving a bare-bones account of what had happened.

She didn’t even look at it when she was washing the grime of the day off in the shower, the black sweatband on her wrist soaking wet as she left it exactly where it was.

It was only after three vodka-heavy OJs and a late night staring session with the wall that she caved. Yanking off the band and looking at the words at last.

It was a _ bad _ idea.

All she could taste was bile, brain blanking out entirely into a hollow ringing panic as she stared down at the little words. So angular and neat, absolutely perfect penmanship really. 

Calligraphy edged in gold.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t _ breathe _through the anxiety that gripped her. The tidal wave of utter disappointment she would never admit too.

Because there had been a part of her, a teeny tiny little part of her that pretty much only showed itself after booze and heartbreak, that desperately _ wanted _a soulmate of her own. No matter how much she denied it.

She was weird. She’d always known it. A triangle peg in a square hole, she could fit through it alright if she twisted just the right way, but it didn’t mean it had been made for her. It didn’t mean there wasn’t a massive gap around the edge she never quite seemed able to fill.

And stupid, _ stupid, _ fairytale-daydream Darcy had thought just maybe _ he _ would fill it. He’d make it all better. The mystery man on the other end of her bond. Someone tall and funny who got her weird sense of humour and didn’t judge her for her general… _ her-ness._

But nope. Not for Darcy.

She’d been given a homicidal space prince who had been even less enamoured with her than she was of him for her happily never after.

Shotgunning the remnants of her glass she filled it up again, a solid fifty fifty split on the vodka and juice this time before she slugged it down. Then she did it again.

Healthy coping mechanisms be damned. 

—-

Jane had booked her flight back the moment her transportable atmo-rig started noting anomalous readings over New Mexico.

She’d tried to call Darcy from the airport but, despite the several degrees and phd that should have ensured otherwise, she couldn’t get her stupid phone to work in London. She was practically vibrating by the time she touched down back on home soil, blasting through her messages as she hailed a cab. Her suitcase dragging on its one busted wheel.

_ “Anomaly… visitor… Asgard… Thor’s brother’s back… Shield…” _

She could barely make out the words but it was enough, hurling herself into the first cab that would stop and begging them to drive as fast as legally possible back to the house.

_ Loki._

Thor hadn’t said much about him but what he had was enough. She’d seen the Destroyer herself after all, felt it’s fire scorching the air and seen the way Thor had crumpled beneath it.

If Loki was here, where was Thor? 

Her heart picked up, thumping awkwardly in her chest as she silently urged the driver to speed up. Mind racing with the implications of everything that had happened, with the stupid, girly _ hope _that Thor would show up and save them all.

Biting her teeth together she tried to call Darcy again, fighting the urge to panic every time it went to the intern’s answerphone. Now was _ not _a good time for her to go radio silent, especially considering the girl seemed to be surgically attached to her phone most of the time. 

If they survived this she was getting a stern talking too.

_ If. _

Oh god there was a dent in the front door. She saw it from the cab, shoving a handful of notes at the driver she wasn’t even sure were American as she threw herself out of the car. 

This was completely and totally very _not _good.

“Darcy?” Jane was already running, suitcase bumping wildly over the uneven surface of the drive as she headed for the door, “Darcy are you here?”

“Jannnne! Hey it’s Jane!”

Darcy met her at the door.

Darcy was i_ncredibly _ drunk.

“What the hell happened here?” Jane’s voice was bordering on shrill, tight in her throat as she abandoned her bags completely in the hallway.

There were bottles strewn across the floor of the living room. The furniture slightly off kilter as if someone had knocked into it and hadn’t bothered to set it straight. Jane’s anxiety stilled, morphing into a frustration as she glared down at her blitzed intern following her sloppily across the room.

“Hmm?” Darcy’s glasses were skewed, eyes glassy and blinking as she looked up at last, holding up her wrist as if that answered everything, “oh yeah, this did!”

The girl scrabbled at her sleeve, sloppily dragging back the layers to reveal a mark beneath. A _ soul _mark. A sharp line of text neatly scrawled across her pulse.

“Oh my god,” Jane’s breath left her body, eyes going wide as she stared, “You’re... _ marked _.”

“Hnf. _ Marked _ .” Darcy snorted, “More like _ cursed _ if y’ask me.”

A pang of jealousy ached between Jane’s ribs as Darcy looked down at it with disgust. 

It wasn’t like Jane had ever _ wanted _a mark, not at first at least. She had lived and breathed for science and well - that was one area that still defied scientific knowledge. She had toyed with the idea of going into the field once but all the research was a dead end and besides, the stars called to her.

She’d been perfectly content to live her life on her own terms. No mark required. But then she’d met Thor...

Their connection had been so instant, so unlike anything she’d ever known before. It thrummed within her, a desperate spark that made her wish they shared words too. That she had something to prove that it wasn’t all in her head, that he was real, their bond was _ real._

That he’d return and everything would be alright.

“I never knew…” she heard herself say, trying to piece together what the words had to do with Darcy’s drunken state and the new threat facing them from the skies.

“Yeah well, I didn’t exactly advertise it, did I.” Darce slumped backwards into the sofa, reaching clumsily towards the side table for the mostly-empty vodka bottle, “Not that it helped.”

“I don’t understand,” Jane reached over, moving the alcohol quickly out of the way, “isn’t that a… a good thing?”

Darcy laughed, great snorting cackles as she shook her head. Hair plastering itself to her face as she struggled over the side of the sofa and snatched the bottle back. Chugging it down neat and coughing. 

“No Jane,” she spluttered, “no it’s not. Y’know what my _ supposed _ soulmate did the furs… first time we met? He tried to kill me with a… with a _ giant robot thing _ ... and then _ Thor?! _ You saw what he did to him- the _ bastard_. And today? His _ face_. His stupid face. I thought he was gonna be sick…”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Jane felt her mouth slacken, the pieces clicking into place at last. 

“You mean… you‘re telling me that Thor’s brother… he’s the one who...?” 

Darcy tossed the empty bottle away with a clatter, “_Loki. _ Prince of wherever and god of… I dunno, something stupid probably, rocked up to town today and _ ruined my life.” _

This changed everything, _ shook _ everything. Loki had tried to kill them. He’d almost succeeded. Her throat tightened at the memory of it, at the memory of all the nights since when she’d awoken from nightmares about fire and fear. The scent of copper and the feeling of abject _ helplessness_ following her into the waking world with the image of Thor, bruised and beaten in the dirt.

Only he didn’t get back up in her dreams. Neither of them did. 

It made her retch to think that the man capable of doing that to his own brother could have a soulmate when Thor didn’t. That _ Darcy, _kind, irreverent, irritating Darcy, could be that person.

“Where is he now?” Jane asked quickly, trying to think three steps ahead even as her brain buzzed and sputtered. Stuck on a loop of the destruction at Puente Antiguo even now, fear clenching in her gut at the thought it could happen again.

Frustrated that Darcy was drunk when the world probably needed saving all over again. 

“Jeez, don’t you check your messages?” Darcy glared balefully at her, “s’with Shield. I _ tased _his ass. Ha.”

“We have to find a way to tell Thor.”

_ If Thor was still alive. _

Her hands clenched, forcing the thought back before it could derail her completely. She couldn’t go there, couldn’t think what it meant that _ he _ was here and Thor wasn’t. 

“We have to tell an exorcist,” Darcy grunted in response. Reaching for the vodka and scowling when it wasn’t there, she batted blearily at the side for a handful of seconds before giving up, “need n’old priest an’a young priest.”

Jane’s frustration turned hollow, her own fears dying away as she watched Darcy slump in on herself. Digging her nails into the skin of her wrist and scratching at the words as if she could pick them clean off.

“Darcy! You’re hurting yourself.” She scolded, pulling her hands away and finding Darcy’s fingers already stained red. Her eyes watering as she looked up at Jane in shame.

She was crying.

Unshakable, irrepressible Darcy Lewis. The girl who threw herself body and soul into everything Jane asked of her with a smile and a sarcastic comment. The girl who hadn’t balked when they faced a giant metal beast hell bent on destroying them all, was _crying._

Jane felt her heart swelling up inside her chest as the tears began to fall from Darcy’s cheeks. Hot, angry sobs as she stared down at the mess she’d made.

“I don’t understand,” her voice cracked, broken and frail and so unlike herself, “what did I do wrong Jane? What - what kind of _ person _ am I that that… _ that… _”

The sentence was lost, buried in Jane’s neck as she wrapped her arms around Darcy. Holding the younger woman tightly as she sobbed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said firmly, “nothing at all. And, I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but anyone _ lucky _ enough to be your soulmate can’t be all bad. Maybe… maybe there’s things we don’t know about him yet. Maybe there’s a _ reason.” _

“You have to say that,” Darcy hiccuped, “y’my friend.”

She was, wasn’t she? Jane had never been good with people, she’d never been good with _ friends_, but somehow, defying all logic, Darcy had worked her way under her skin. She was so constant, so easy going and open it was impossible not to befriend her. Even if she did annoy her endlessly with her loud music and snarky comments.

“I’m also a scientist. This right here is logic,” Jane said, rubbing awkward circles over Darcy’s back in an attempt at comforting her, “now let’s get you cleaned up and into bed. We’ll deal with it in the morning, I promise you. It will all be okay.”

She didn’t think Darcy believed her, she didn’t even know if she believed herself, but the girl nodded anyway. Letting herself be pulled along meekly in Jane’s wake. Nothing about Darcy Lewis had ever been meek before and it made something in Jane’s chest twist and break. 

It would be okay.

Wouldn't it?   



	4. Intentions

Loki had a plan.

Well, to be precise, he had a dozen plans; the most tempting of which was to blast his way free using his new found frost magic in a hail of absolute violence. A gleeful, vicious confirmation of everything the world had made him.

Instead he sat casually at the little steel table in his cell, hands folded neatly in front of him as he waited for his interrogator to appear.

As tempting as it might have been to destroy them all outright it was too short-sighted, too brutish and uncouth. It was something a _lesser_ mind might do. Better to be patient and achieve everything he wanted than to spoil his plans for a brief moment of satisfaction.

When the door finally opened, he was ready for them, recognising the soft chin and receding hairline of the man who entered. He had been in _ her _home when he’d been apprehended, the two of them smiling so easily at each other like old friends.

_ Darcy Lewis. _

He’d stolen her name from their coded conversations, this fated mortal who’d sewn gold into his skin. His hand twitched even as he forced himself into utter impassivity as the man approached. He had to appear as a friend.

For now at least.

“Hi there, I’m Phil, Phil Coulson, and I’ll be speaking with you today if that's alright?”

A thick manila folder was placed off-centre in front of the man as he sat, a carefully orchestrated sign of thoughtlessness. Like the disarming smile and the way he shuffled his chair awkwardly.

An inane, non-threatening act belied by the mans sharp eyes. 

It was a decent performance but Loki had been playing this game long before this man’s great grandfather had ever drawn breath. 

“Of course,” he nodded, the very picture of stilted affability, “a pleasure to meet you, I’m sure. I am Loki, _ Prince _ of Asgard.”

No need to laden on too many titles, this man knew who he was. It was enough to reiterate his rank and emphasis the limits of this _Coulson’s_ jurisdiction. 

“Your highness,” Coulson tipped his head in a thin attempt at courtesy that read far too much like sarcasm. A wry smile twitching his cheek as he shuffled his papers, “so sorry about the inconvenience of all… well, _ this, _but we’ve had some difficulties with uh… off-world visitors in the past, you understand.”

“Something I fear I have not helped,” he chuckled, a light sound of self-deprecation that didn’t go deeper than his teeth, “A misunderstanding I assure you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking Mr Loki, why exactly _ are _ you here?”

The drop of his title was deliberate, as was the inspid head tilt as Coulson looked at him. A stare he couldn’t imagine intimidating anything more threatening than a goose.

“To offer penance for my actions of course,” he said it as if were the most logical thing in the world, dripping his lies in just enough honey to be palatable without overselling them. He sat high and proud, making sure to keep just a hint of a sneer to ensure they remembered he was a prince still, it was a delicate balance but he walked it well, “Your world was caught in a conflict it had no stake in and the collateral damage was inexcusable. I have come to apologise on behalf of my kingdom, and make reparations, of course.”

“Really?” Coulson’s eyebrows rose, hands pausing over his busy work as he looked up at last. A fish mouthing at his bait.

“But of course,” he bowed his head ever so slightly, “I am at your service. As a gesture of goodwill I would even tell you of something we left on your planet some centuries ago that might be of interest to you.” 

He spun his half truths like a web, there was an item, it had been left there. Where however he wasn’t entirely sure yet, but he would be. Soon. 

“Something you left?”

“Yes, a source of clean power. We had hoped one day your people would advance enough to make use of it and perhaps it that time has come at last. It may prove especially _useful_ to you now you’ve taken your place in the universe at large.”

“And in return?” The guppy’s mouth opened tentatively around his hook. 

“It is penance, Agent Coulson, I would consider it a debt paid if I could improve as many lives as I endangered.” 

He saw the look, the eagerness and hesitation. The fear of a deal too good to be true. It would be wise to distrust him, but humans were greedy creatures.

Most species were.

Letting the moment breathe he turned his thoughts to the _ other _ part of his plan. Clearing his throat he added, “Of course you understand this is a delicate situation, I would be loathe to see such power fall into the wrong hands. To that end I would require a representative to work with already trusted by my people, one outside of the confines of your agency.”

“Who?”

Loki bit his teeth against the grin that threatened to break his composure, Coulson’s look said it all. The bait was taken, the hook embedded. 

Now all Loki had to do was reel them in and he could have it _ all. _

—-

Darcy bit into a piece of jelly covered charcoal that was thinly masquerading itself as toast. 

Jane had made her breakfast for the third time in as many days. The brilliant scientist quietly presenting her with a variety of cremated foods throughout the day in support.

Darcy didn’t care that it was crispy crittered or borderline inedible. It was the gesture that mattered and the gesture was _nice_. She couldn’t remember the last time Jane had cooked for her, or for anyone else for that matter, it was usually her job. 

Darcy did the cooking, the shopping, the tidying and bill paying. She made sure there was gas in the van and ink in the printer. She spent her days herding people who, no matter how brilliant, still needed regular reminders to eat and sleep and change their goddamn clothes once in a while. 

Now everything was different, Jane’s concern palpable as she fluttered around the kitchen for the third day in a row washing plates and stacking them unevenly on the sideboard. The feeling was bittersweet. Her appreciation at Jane’s concern muddied by the reminder of _why _she was concerned in the first place. 

Because of… well, _him._

Darcy had spent the first day wallowing over the absolute bizarre turn of events, her shitty mood not at all helped by the hangover she’d given herself. It wasn’t until the sun was setting again that she’d been fit for company, speaking to Jane in hushed tones about what had happened the year before in the desert, and what Thor had told her about the-god-who-would-not-be-named. They’d dug into it carefully, Jane offering suggestions about who to call for help that she’d shot down every time. 

She meant well but this was Darcy’s mess. There was no _way_ she was letting Shield or anyone else know what had really happened, or the depth of the connection she had to the man they’d taken into custody. Not least because she was worried what they might do to _ her _ if they found out, soul mates were considered a package deal by authorities after all. 

And besides there'd never, to her knowledge at least, been a human-alien match before. God only knew the tests they’d want to do to her to figure that mess out.

Her hangover dragged on with the bitterness of the thought. Hovering over her like a cloud during the second day, when she’d thrown herself into research instead. Jane returning to the lab as Darcy searched for everything and anything she could about the bonds, if they ever went wrong, if they ever made a mistake. 

_ ‘What to do if your bonded was completely and totally wrong for you.’ _

The internet didn’t help, the only articles she found dealt with mismatches of the ‘oh my god he’s such an Aries’ variety, as opposed to the ‘oh my god he tried to kill my friends and me with a giant robot’ variety. 

According to the wisdom of _soulmatch dot com _everyone with a soulmate ended up with their perfect other half. Every. Single. Time. By the end of the day she was half convinced the whole thing was some giant bullshit conspiracy invented by a cosmic advertising firm to sell romance novels and make her feel worse about herself than ever. 

On the third day she’d had enough. Deciding to _officially_ be over it instead.

“You can go to the lab, Jane,” she said through another mouthful of charcoal, pretty sure she was gonna break a tooth before she finished the slice but not caring anyway, “I‘ll be in as soon as I’m done here.” 

“No, no that’s okay!” Jane said way too fast, her eyes already half-glossed over with a look that said ‘science in progress’ as she took a cup down from the cupboard only to turn around and put it back again a second later, “you don’t have too, I mean the data needs analysing of course, and the machines need recalibrating but I can do that later, I’m sure the fail-safe won’t cascade in the meantime. Probably. You can take the day off, or several days off, whatever you need.” 

Darcy couldn’t help but smile as she shook her head, “you can’t get rid of me that easy, boss lady. I’ll be in as soon as I’ve cleaned up a bit.” 

Nothing said _ healthy _like the sweet perfume of stale vodka and mental breakdown clinging to your hair and clothes. 

“Are you sure? You don’t have to you know, you can stay here and-”

“Mope? Nah, not my bag baby,” shoving the last of the cremated bread into her mouth she ditched her plate in the sink, brushing off her hands brightly, “I’ve had my moment. Now go and get _ science-ing. _ Let’s build that funky bridge thing and get the good brother back here a-sap.”

Jane had been working overtime trying to get it up and running since it became clear that the elder Odinson wouldn’t be joining his kid brother on Earth.

“Just… just call me if you need me okay?” Jane said, already heading for the door, “or if you change your mind? I‘m totally okay with that.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Darcy waved her off, popping a couple of aspirin for the road as she headed for the shover, “See you soon!”

It was amazing how much clearer everything seemed when she was clean and vaguely human again. Damp hair braided away from her face as she dressed for the day. 

What had happened had happened, nothing could change that, but it didn’t mean it had to change her. It was done and the world was still turning. Time for her to turn with it.

Feeling calmer than she had in days she headed for the door. The lab wasn’t going to clean itself after all, and Jane was probably drowning in data by now, most likely data she couldn’t read even though it was in her own handwriting.

Besides, she thought almost happily as she cracked the door open, it wasn’t like she’d ever have to see _him_ again. It was done with.

“Miss Lewis,” Coulson was on her doorstep with Agent Barton, hand raised as if he were about to knock as she stumbled backwards, “mind if we come in and talk for a minute?”

Her heart stuttered violently, raspberry jelly and mint toothpaste backwashing into her mouth as she clutched at the door frame. 

They _ knew. _

Oh god, somehow they knew. Either _ he’d _ told them or they’d figured it out themselves, it didn’t really matter which. They were here now for her. Primed and ready to study her like a bug, or arrest her for space treason or _ something. _

“Miss Lewis?” Coulson prompted again, his gentle little smile kicking her back into reality with a vengeance. 

“Uh… yeah, sure.” She forced her feet to move, stepping back to let them in. She couldn’t overreact, not now, she had to be rational. It was just the two of them on her doorstep after all, not an entire swat team.

Maybe it would be okay.

Maybe it would be unrelated. 

Jesus, when had she _ever_ been that lucky?

“Sup Lewis,” Agent Barton grinned as he passed her, pulling out one of their kitchen chairs and straddling the back of it, “got any coffee?”

“Sure, coffee,” she repeated dimly, turning to make a fresh pot as they settled at her table like they owned the place. Which technically she supposed they did, Shield had paid for it after all, “good to see you again.” 

It was a lie but a bittersweet one. It really _ would’ve _ been good to see him if the circumstances were any different. Clint had stuck around after Puente Argente to help clean up the mess, not to mention the fact he’d helped her out during the week long mandatory Shield-Orientation-for-Important-Assets-and-Their-Less-Important-Interns. 

He was a good guy.

_But_ he might also still be there to try and experiment on her for being a regicidal alien’s soul bride so maybe it was best not to get too chummy with him. 

With_ either _of them.

“So uh… what’s this about then?” She asked, trying to hide the fact she was shaking as she set their mugs on the table, “not that it’s not great to see you guys or anything, cos like hey, it _totally_ is. But Shield on the doorstep normally means, like, the world is in trouble or something so... what’s up?”

Cursing her own _super_ eloquent and not at all suspicious tongue she sat down, shoving her hands under the thighs as she took the chair closest to the door. She doubted she’d get very far if it came to running but hey, a girl could dream. 

“It’s a little bit of a delicate situation,” Coulson said, apparently unphased by her babbling even if he didn’t fully meet her gaze as he took off his sunglasses, “we are in need of an… independent _ attaché _for our recent visitor. He has information we’d like to get our hands on and he’s specifically requested someone known to Asgard. Considering the events of last year the applicant pool isn’t exactly wide.”

They weren’t here to experiment on her. Which was _awesome. _Right up until the moment it wasn’t, her knee-jerk elation dying a speedy death as she realised they’d come to try and expose someone else to _him_ instead.

“Jane’s at the lab,” her stomach clenched tight enough to cramp as she looked between them, “is that the best idea though? After what he did and all?”

“We don’t think so,” Coulson half smiled, “given Doctor Foster’s current research and uh… personal relationship with the subject’s brother we don’t think she’d be the best choice.”

Darcy shuddered at the thought, hating to think what Loki would do to his brothers squeeze if he got the chance.

The guy was a psycho.

_ Her _ psycho apparently, but it wasn’t like she was gonna mention that to Coulson.

“Erik?” She offered, brow furrowing as she tried to think the alternatives through, “I haven’t been able to get through to his cell since he started working on whatever it is you’ve got him on, you haven’t lost him have you?”

“Doctor Selvig is currently engaged in a classified project for Shield, one we can’t pull him from.” Coulson said, pushing his mug away and lacing his fingers. His shoulders pressed against the back of his chair as he met her gaze at last, his blue eyes steady as he waited for the penny to drop. 

When it did it did so with the weight of a mack truck.

Oh no.

Oh no no no _ fuck _ no. 

Darcy felt the blood leave her face, falling back in her seat dizzily as the truth set in. They didn’t want Jane. They didn’t want Erik. They wanted _ her. _

Even without knowing about their little... _connection_... they wanted her.

At first she couldn’t understand it, they didn’t know about the mark so _ why _ ? She wasn’t a super scientist or an asset or _anything _like that, she was just an intern. She wasn’t important.

But... but that was the _ point _ wasn’t it?

It dawned on her slowly, _ coldly, _the claws of understanding sinking into her brain one sharp digit at a time. The fact she wasn’t important was the exact reason they wanted her in the first place. In their eyes she was expendable.

Hell, in _ everyone’s _ eyes she was expendable. She wasn’t going to change the world with space travel bridges or fix super secret projects for them. She was _ nobody. _

And she was well and truly fucked.

Coulson’s face was sympathetic, an understanding tilt to his head even as his eyes remained fixed. 

“Is there any other option?” She asked the tabletop, smearing her finger through the ring her coffee cup had left earlier than morning.

“Not really, no,” Coulson sighed, apologetic but absolutely determined as he looked across at her, “the information he could provide could prove vital to the future of the entire planet, and he won’t work with us without an intermediary. Without _ you _. Please Darcy, we need you.”

She could say no.

She could say no right now and kick them the hell out. She didn’t have to do this. She _didn’t_.

Only… only she did. For the first time in her life the world truly needed her and for some idiotic, wannabe-hero reason she couldn’t say no.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” she sighed, the sound dragging itself from the depths of her soul as she looked up at last, “can I bring my taser at least?”  
  



	5. Show and Tell

Rainbows danced beneath Frigga’s feet, an ever shifting array of lights that moved as she did as she strode towards the reconstructed observatory.

Even repaired as it was, the bifröst still bore the scars of battle. The scores ran deep beneath the surface, ugly and dark, a perfect reflection of her own wounds. The failures she’d made as a parent carved deep into her chest, invisible but bleeding even now.

Odin would not approve of her coming here but she didn’t care, his opinion in this mattered little to her. The titles of _ queen _ and _ wife _ were ancillary, her first office would always be _ mother. _

“Your majesty,” Heimdall bowed his head as she entered the dome. 

“Do you see him?” 

She didn’t have to specify who, Heimdall would know. He always did.

“Sometimes,” he sighed, his hands heavy against the pommel of his sword as he looked out with endless eyes over the vast expanse of space, “he is shadowed still, as if a cloud hangs over him even now.”

A cloud she had formed with her selfish need to keep everything as it was. So complacent she had let herself forget over the years the truth of his birth, he had been her son_ , _ he _ was _ her son, nothing could change that.

But her actions had changed him. 

“Where is he?” She slipped her hands into her sleeves, holding tight to her wrists in some hope of comfort as she looked to Heimdall.

“He is with the same humans he once set against, he claims to wish to make amends for his crimes against them.” His tone was perfectly even but Frigga didn’t miss the flicker in his expression as he said it. 

“You don’t believe him?”

“I…” he hesitated diplomatically, “would not presume to guess at Loki’s motivations.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that, there were few in all the realms who would. And even less who would do so correctly.

Once she thought perhaps she had understood him, her youngest son, but she was wrong. She had not realised the depths of the damage her lies would cause, or the madness that would rise in its wake.

She, as much as Loki, was responsible for all the pain and destruction that had followed. Something she couldn’t fix, no matter how she wished too.

Sighing she lifted her chin, gazing out into the beyond again as if, if she looked hard enough, she might see her boys too, “and what of my other son? Does he fair well?”

“Thor is in the realm of Nornheim,” Heimdall’s tone lightened, gaze moving up across the cosmos obediently, “engaged in glorious battle your majesty. Although his eyes turn to the heavens as often as they’re able.”

“He looks for his lady,” a wistful air caught her at the thought, Thor had been so inconsistent for so long. Caught in a single minded need for battle and glory.

Midgard had changed him, as had the love he glimpsed there.

Was it naive of her to hope the same might happen for Loki? That one day he might find his balance with another, someone who might right all of the wrongs she’d made with him.

“And she looks for him,” the gatekeeper said, tilting his head, “even now she works to bring their worlds together again.”

“Hopefully under better circumstances this time,” Frigga offered, laying a hand on Heimdall’s arm as she turned away, “thank you my friend, I would ask you not mention this to my husband.”

“Of course my Queen,” he nodded, a look forged from eons of watching the realms crossing his face as he tactfully added, “I am sure he would ask the same.”

Frigga smiled as she turned away, perhaps she was not the only one worried about their boys after all. 

—-

Loki had been moved to better quarters, his assertion that he was there because he wished to be, and he assumed the Midgardians own experience with his brothers powers, had seen to that. 

They had ever so generously offered to _ host _him during his sojourn with them and he had taken them up on it. For now at least. Not that he had mistaken their offer for a relaxing of their guard of course, he had no doubt if he tried to leave they would stop him. Or follow him. But he had no wish to leave, not yet at least, not until they’d given him what he wanted.

The girl was waiting for him in the meagre dining room, sat so straight in the chair it was as if someone had nailed her shoulders to the backboard. Her gaze a million miles away, somewhere he couldn’t follow.

The good agent had come through for him after all it seemed and served her up. Just as he wanted.

Loki might have had no wish to be bound to her but that didn’t mean he would let anyone use her against him either. That would be an unacceptable weakness in the eyes of his enemies, whose numbers seemed to grow by the day.

She was a weakness.

One it would be best to keep close to him, at least until his powers were fully restored. Once his enemies were dealt with and she was properly protected they would be free to go their own ways. Until then however he would not allow her to be used as leverage against him, not by anyone.

To that end his first mission was simple, he had to get her on his side. He didn’t imagine it would be a particularly difficult feat, she was supposedly inclined to him after all, at least if the marks meant anything. And he had _something_ of an aptitude for charm. 

“Miss Lewis,” he kept his head slightly bowed as he entered the room, “my apologies for our last… _ encounter. _I was a little out of sorts.”

Now she was here again he couldn’t seem to look away from her. Curiosity getting the best of him as he examined her anew, as if the answers to all his many questions might appear on her skin at any moment.

Written in his own hand perhaps.

Her posture didn’t relax, eyebrow ticking up just a fraction as she looked up at him cooly, “get on with it, Loki.”

His name sounded strange on her tongue, an unfamiliar cadence to it. A casual sort of disregard that perversely made him want to hear her say it more.

“What? No intrigue?” He asked in mocking disbelief, his good intentions already lost to the wind in the face of her apathy, “don't you want to know why you’re here?”

“Nope.” She popped her lips around the ‘p’, “I know exactly why I’m here. _ You _ want me here cos you think some bullshit mark is gonna make me easy to manipulate into whatever shady ass plan you’ve got going, _ Shield _ wants me here because if you succeed in said manipulation and shady ass plan no government secrets will be leaked or important scientific projects compromised. I’m expendable, baby. Have at it.”

His eyes widened just a fraction, trying to keep the surprise from his face as she slumped back in her chair at last. Shrugging her shoulders at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

This was not the biddable creature he had anticipated, she had _ fire. _An unexpected insight that sparked bright and contrary in her eye, speaking of a challenge he hadn’t bargained for.

“Are you always so harsh on yourself, Miss Lewis?” It felt wrong to use her given name, too intimate somehow. There were boundaries that needed to be maintained now more than ever.

“I’m a realist,” she huffed, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve as she glared at him, “Just because I’m not a super spy or a Nobel prize nominee or a _ prince _ doesn’t mean I don’t have worth, it just makes me better for this shit show of a mission.”

“What is your worth then?” He leant forward without meaning too, lacing his fingers together as he regarded her closely, “what have you to recommend yourself with? I’m curious.”

He was surprised to find when he said it that it was true. He _was_ curious, and more than a little frustrated too. He found he desperately wanted a rise out of her, a reaction other than this still sort of acceptance as she looked at him with thinly veiled contempt. 

Emotions made for an easy game, one that Darcy Lewis didn’t seem willing to play.

“Nothing to interest you, I’m sure,” she said evenly, tilting her head at him, “I’m only here because apparently you won’t talk to Shield without me, which is kind of amazing really, considering how much you seem to like the sound of your own voice.”

She rubbed her left wrist again, the only hint of uncertainty in her perfect facade. Her fingers working at the skin through her sleeve almost unconsciously.

His gaze sharpened, chest pulling tight as he focused in on the spot. _ Was that it? _ Was that where his words were? Written in blue against her pulse? In _ gold? _Shining against her pale skin like a hallmark. 

Desperation rose hot in his veins, fingers itching with the urge to see it for himself. The inevitable confirmation he had been waiting for his entire life.

“Let me propose a trade then,” He met her gaze directly as he fought to keep his breathing even, the need simmering below the surface even as he strove to appear unaffected, “a question for a question. That’s fair, isn’t it?” 

“That wasn’t the deal,” her eyes turned sharp, “and I _ really _ don’t have to be here, dude.”

He licked his teeth, a vicious thrill unfurling in his bones as he looked across at her. Finding a worthy challenge in the most unexpected of places.

“Really now, you’re not _ scared _ are you?”

—-

Darcy felt her jaw clench, forcing herself to stop grinding her teeth. Her internship didn’t include dental coverage.

She’d been expecting a cold cell, a steely interrogation room with no windows but the one-way glass and the seven armed guards beyond it. Instead she’d been driven to a fancy looking building and ushered into a bright formal dining room. Nice wooden table, sturdy chairs. Airy. _ Light. _

Not the kind of place you’d keep an intergalactic prisoner. 

Which made sense now, since he didn’t seem to being kept prisoner at all. Noooo, he was being treated like an _ honoured guest, _ it was diplomatic immunity gone mad.

Not to mention the fact he was baiting her and she knew it, twisty schemes practically dancing behind his eyes. His very attractive green eyes.

His handsomeness only bothered her more, unaccountably angry at him for daring to be so hot and such a bastard at the same time. It just wasn’t _fair_.

And she _so_ wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her, no matter what he looked like. She was half prepared to get up and walk out right then and there.

Not that she did.

This was a decision she’d already made, the only choice now was how quickly she could get it over with. If he wanted to play twenty questions so be it, at least she could be fairly sure that whatever evil intel he wanted to squeeze out of her she was completely unequipped to give to him. 

There were no government secrets in her head for him to steal. Sucker.

“Honest answers, _ your majesty,” _she said at last, remembering vividly the googling she’d done on the way over and the reputation he’d earned in the myths and legends, “and we stop when I say so.”

The guy had more nicknames than an NBA star. _ Silver tongue _ was ambiguously kinky but _ liesmith _ left no room for debate. This was not a guy to be trusted.

“But of course, my lady. After you.”

Her spine prickled, not sure if _ Miss Lewis _ or _ My Lady _was worse. The first was distinctly mocking, the second far too intimate for her liking. She doubted they’d ever find a happy medium, because of course they wouldn’t.

“Where exactly is this object you were telling Agent Coulson about, the one your people left here?” She asked, knowing she needed to watch her phrasing so as not to get caught up in any bullshit loopholes. He’d been lying for longer than she’d been alive... which was not at all a comforting thought.

“I cannot say for certain,” he replied easily, long fingers spread against the table top, “but I do believe it was left in the realm of _ Nord-Noreg_, I think you call it _ Norway _ now.”

Go figure. Viking gods leaving a Viking treasure in a Viking country. She should have been able to guess that.

His eyes focused intently on her, sucking the air from her lungs as he asked, “Where is your mark?”

_ Shit._

She hadn’t been expecting that.

Not at all.

She hadn’t expected anything… well_…_ _personal_, not after his absolute horror at finding out they were linked in the first place. She thought he would be just as determined to ignore it as she was.

She was wrong. 

“Miss Lewis?” He prompted when the moment dragged awkwardly, his face set in a mockery of innocence, “it is a simple question is it not?”

Damn him. 

“On my wrist.” She said quickly, trying to cover the pause with a look of absolute disdain as she turned her head away, “Left wrist. Why did you destroy Puente Antiguo?”

He hitched one broad shoulder elegantly, “It was an unfortunate case of collateral damage. I really only meant to target Thor and his comrades.”

“Speaking as one of his _ comrades _ that doesn’t make it better,” she snapped, hands clenching as she glared at him, “it also doesn’t explain _ why. _Why attack Thor in the first place?” 

“You’ve asked a question, I’ve answered it,” he shot back, the edge of a smirk on his stupid pointy face, “what does your mark say?

“It says the first words my _ theoretical _ soulmate will ever say to me, should such a person exist,” she replied tersely. Another question forming between her teeth as he narrowed his eyes at her, one she was almost too afraid to ask, “is Thor alive and okay?”

The silence stretched, her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest as she waited for his response. Trying not to think about that day in the desert when Thor had been felled; the big, beefy Labrador of a god lying crumpled in the dust, Jane’s tears streaming down her face as she huddled over him.

And above them all the cold shadow of the metal monster.

Of _ Loki. _

Even now he seemed to crowd her, the table seeming to shrink between them as he watched her with an intensity that bordered on madness.

“Yes.” He said at last, something bitter crossing his face as he finally tore his gaze away from hers, “and grateful for your _ loving _ concern I’m sure. What _exactly_ do your words say?”

It was a small victory but she’d take it, able to breathe again as relief flooded through her. She pushed up from her seat, the chair scraping against the wooden floor as she walked away from him to the window.

She needed to move, to get _ space. _ Inhaling deeply as she fixed her gaze on the horizon, reassuring herself the world was still turning outside of the room before she answered.

“‘_You really shouldn’t be here,’_” she quoted, turning back to him with an eye roll, “story of my life, really. _ Why _ did you attack Thor?” 

“I had to protect my kingdom,” a stiff sort of stillness had come over him, sitting ramrod straight in his chair as he looked across at her, “I was a king and he was a threat to my rule.”

Ah-ha. That was something! Not what Shield was looking for sure, but something nevertheless.

“_Was_?” She crossed her arms over her chest, hitching an eyebrow at him, “is that why you said you were the _ Prince _ of Asgard, not the king.”

Although he _had_ said he was the rightful king of some other place. She couldn’t focus on that now though, she was doing this puzzle one maddening, crown wearing piece at a time.

Shields goal was to get information about the weird space device_, _hers was to figure out exactly what had happened since Thor had left and go from there. If she could do both all the better.

“Thor’s father sits once more on the throne of Asgard,” he said, apparently completely casual even though she swore she could see a muscle in his jaw jump, “for now.”

_ Thor’s _ father. Not his. There was yet another piece she had no idea what to do with yet. Storing it away for future study before turning her back on him and deliberately shutting him out.

“I don’t think that’s all of it,” she said to the window, “I don’t think that’s even half of it.”

“Yes well,” he sighed and she felt it all the way down to her toes, watching him rise in the reflection of the glass and move towards her, “perhaps madness makes monsters of us all.”

She didn’t know what to say to that so she didn’t say anything. Determined not to flinch as he approached her.

**“**Your turn,” she said when he’d drawn level, turning to look at him properly with her arms folded tightly across her chest, “a deal’s a deal after all.”

“Show me.” His gaze flickered down to her wrist and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

“That’s not a question.” She said, “_ But, _ tell me exactly what this thing is you're selling Shield and I’ll _ consider _ it.”

He hesitated and she swore she could feel the air thicken around them. Warm and close as a lightning snap of tension rushed up her spine. He was way too close, eyeing her up like he could see right through her as the moment held. 

“Very well,” he nodded, relief and adrenaline mixing dizzily in her veins as he took a step back at last, “It has gone by many names over the centuries. The _ Kosmosboks _ , the Cosmic Cube, the Tesseract. It was a relic of Asgard, although it originates from a time long before the first star in our galaxy ever burst into existence. The energy within it holds endless potential if one knows how to use it. If one doesn’t however, well… it would be _ inadvisable _ to toy with such a power.”

She could tell every word he said was chosen carefully, _ purposefully,_ a poker player showing only what he wanted his opponents to know. He was baiting her into asking more, trying to twist the situation to his favour.

Better to keep him off balance whilst she still had a few cards of her own. 

“Thank you for sharing,” she nodded, trying her best to look like a cool agent and not trip over her own feet as she turned away, “have a nice day.”

“Wait-”

Long fingers closed around her arm, stopping her before she had taken more than two steps. She whirled on her heel, heart suddenly rocketing as she looked down at his hand with undisguised panic.

Loki cleared his throat, withdrawing it immediately and tucking it behind his back, “You said…”

“I said I’d consider it,” she snapped, pulse roaring in her head as she rubbed at the place he’d grabbed. Feeling phantom fingers through her cardigan even now. Strong and warm and all too real.

“_Please_.”

She hadn’t been expecting that, the small, hushed word stopping her more effectively than any shout. Twisting in her chest with something that _ definitely _ wasn’t guilt as she half turned back to him.

He’d shown her his after all, she knew for definite what was going on between them. He was still probably hanging in uncertainty.

Which he _ completely _ deserved.

But just because he could be cruel it didn’t mean she had to be too.

“By the window,” she said, crossing back to the glass and making a show of pointing at something in the distance as if he’d asked her something else entirely, just incase anyone was watching, “We do this quick and clean and if you tell anyone I kill you in your sleep, got it?” 

“You don’t want them to know?” He asked as he crossed swiftly to her side, effectively shielding her from any watchful eyes with his ridiculously tall frame.

She’d never been this close to him before. Well, not when he was conscious at least. The scent of him filling her head, wood smoke and leather and something crisp and cold like winter. Part of her wanted to close her eyes and breathe it in, to identify all the notes of it in the vein hope she might one day find a candle that smelt half as good.

Instead she shut her brain against it, focusing on the task at hand instead. Well… task on arm anyway.

“No I don’t,” she kept her wrist close to her body as she spoke, all her attention focused on pulling at her sleeve, “I won’t be defined by it. Not by anyone.”

Her fingers were clumsy, pulse thick and ragged as she yanked at the layers. Dragging back her cardigan and shirt before pulling the ugly black sweatband beneath them off and shoving it in her pocket. 

“Here,” she lifted her hand carefully, twisting her wrist to face him and wincing as she caught sight of the angry red marks still scored into her skin. The thin line of angular writing was clearly visible between them, inky blue and gold. 

“Satisfied?” She asked, trying her best not to fidget under his hawk like stare. It was like he’d dialled up the intensity to seven hundred, setting her fight or flight instinct into a overdrive even as she tried to ignore it.

“Not at all.”

She looked up sharply at his tone. His face was unreadable, a furrow in his stupid perfect brow as he looked down at her.

“What happened?” He asked, her heart stop-drop-and-rolling as his fingertips brushed over the scratches on her wrist. His touch unbearably _ gentle _against her hyper sensitive skin.

“Vodka,” she squeaked, snatching her hand away on instinct, “and angst.”

It was too late, the feeling had already tattooed itself into her. Intimate and _ raw _ without the layers of clothing between them.

“Darcy…”

“I think we’re done.” She cut him off, her stomach knotting inside of her as she shoved her sleeve down and took off for the door. She only hesitated for a moment, shooting a lightning fast glance at him from the threshold, “goodbye Loki.”

Giving him a stupid little half-wave she marched her ass right out of the room, down the stairs and out of the compound as fast as her legs could carry her. Her mark buried once more, as if it might somehow disappear beneath all of the layers she wore… and the memory of his touch with it. 


	6. Craft Services

“He says it’s dangerous in the wrong hands,” Darcy drummed her fingers on the table as the extra-large coffee she’d chugged hit her bloodstream, “cos his hands are soooo safe I’m sure.”

Ugh, she was so not thinking about his hands right now, no matter how vividly she could still feel the imprint of his fingers against her skin. Her pulse beat heavy in her wrist, a frisson of feeling still sparking over her nerves like he’d left lightning in his wake.

It was the adrenaline, that was all, it had just gotten mixed up in her head with all that bullshit she’d read about soulmates online and that thing Jane had told her about their being a reason and - and - well, was it any wonder she was still a tiny little bit confused? 

Really, it would be weirder if she _wasn’t_ confused. For whatever insane reason the fates had tied her life together with Loki’s but that didn’t mean she had to hang herself with the string. 

Swallowing hard she pushed back the thoughts, trying to focus her brain on just about anything else instead. Like the diner. Worn vinyl booths, checkered floor, the scent of grease embedded so deep in the walls no amount of Lysol would ever get it out.

Coulson couldn’t have chosen a better location for a debrief. It was utterly anonymous, the kind of dime-a-dozen place that sprang up on the edge of every town in the country. She breathed it in, banishing the thoughts of gods and monsters far from her mind in the face of such utterly average small town Americana.

It was so blissfully unremarkable that Darcy was seriously considering asking the manager if she could sleep there for the night just to absorb some of its normalness.

“And you’re sure he called it the Tesseract?” Coulson asked, fresh lines creasing his forehead as he leant across the booth. The file in front of him covered in his messy scrawl.

Part of her wondered if there was anyone out there wearing Phil’s writing on their skin. Someone kind and endlessly patient who could deal with his super secret career maybe, oh - or perhaps they were a spy too! A matching set who could share their love as well as their missions.

The thought was unbearably romantic so she immediately buried it, there was nothing good waiting for her down that pathway. Only wallowing and she’d had just about enough of that for one lifetime. 

“Yes, yes he did. He said it was called the Tesseract, aka the Cosmic Cube, aka the koso… kosma… I dunno, something Nordic.”

The mission. There was a much more productive use of her brain power. She understood now why Shield had such a hard-on for the mysterious object, a power like that could change the world. The fossil fuel industry would die and pollution with it, no more oil spills, no more millions forced to choose between their electricity bills or food.

But it could also split the political landscape into pieces, big oil owned so much of Washington after all. Then there was the fact it could destabilise most of the Middle East, not to mention what would happen if someone tried to weaponize it, which, Darcy knew with grim certainty, was only a matter of time. 

If they weren’t already trying that was.

“So are you going to go after it?” She asked when the silence lingered, suddenly unbearably uncomfortable with the whole thing and wanting very much to be at home with Jane, “he said it was somewhere in Norway.”

Coulson already knew that, she’d told him everything she’d learned about it and Thor and the state of Asgard. Which admittedly wasn’t much but she didn’t know what they expected from someone like her.

Coulson didn’t answer immediately, the mega-shifty-spy look returning to his face as he carefully straightened his files. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Well, there was probably a _lot_ he wasn’t telling her but this little nugget seemed particularly pressing. 

“Phil,” yup, it was time to break out the first name, frustration bubbling up in her chest as the pause held, “level with me here or I’m out, which I’m also fine with by the way. I am totally happy being out. Just say the word.”

She held her breath, something uncharacteristically serious crossing Coulson’s face before he finally replied, “We may have already encountered the object in question.” 

“You…” she blinked twice, hands clenching tight, “you already… ? Okay, okay, so... _why are we playing games with the demigod then?”_

Ugh, more Shield bullshit! If they had it then why had she spent her morning trying to get the location out of him? 

What the hell was their problem?

“We don’t have as much knowledge as we’d like about the device,” Coulson said, cutting off her thoughts as he held his hands up to her, “or how to effectively use it. If he has more information...”

“You want it.” She finished for him, fighting the urge to drop her head onto the table, “and you still want me to get it.”

“He’s made it clear he won’t negotiate with us directly,” Coulson said with an apologetic shrug, “we need you to stay on with the case.”

“Stay here you mean? Leave Jane in the lurch for a gig I have absolutely no experience in? Gee, sounds _great.”_

“I know you haven’t been trained for this Darcy but we need to get him to open up a little more,” Coulson said, “it’ll just be for a few more weeks. Once we have the information we need…”

Darcy didn’t miss the way he let the sentence dangle, the phrase _‘you’re free to go’_ implied but never actually said. Shield was playing her and they both knew it, tugging expertly on the same strings that had kept her from running from the Destroyer all those months ago. 

They tapped into the part of her that wanted to help people, the part of her desperate to make her insignificant little life mean something more than just a footnote in the inevitable Foster-Selvig Nobel Prize speech.

It was working too.

“So you want me to play babysitter for real then?” She asked, trying to hide her discomfort beneath an extra layer of sass, “pretty sure this isn’t earning me any extra college credits here bud.”

“How about a free trip then?” He asked with the shadow of a smile, “Have you ever been to California?”

“You want me to take his majesty to _Disneyland_?” She raised her eyebrows at him, matching his smile even though it felt heavy on her face. A pasted on grin she didn’t mean in the slightest.

“Something like that. Are you prepared to go back this evening? We need a few days to prepare the move and any information we can in the meantime… well it would really help.”

She thought about it. _Hard. _Considering her options as she tapped at the side of her mug. She wanted to know more _and_ she wanted to help. Even if it meant going back there and accepting, for now at least, that Loki was telling at least some shade of the truth.

She didn’t think she could stomach it otherwise. She needed to believe he hadn’t killed Thor. That he wasn’t here to hurt them. That he wanted, in his own self-serving way, to help.

She would trust him right up until the moment he gave her a reason not to. And who knew? Maybe she’d discover that tall-dark-and-fratricidal was actually a good guy with legitimate reasons for his nonsense and a heart the size of a small country whilst she was at it? 

It was entirely unlikely, but it’d be nice anyway. 

“You’re telling Jane,” she sighed at last, pushing her mug away and reaching for the file he held out to her, “and I’ll need supplies for tonight’s mission.”

“What supplies?” He asked, handing the slim document over.

“Something to get him talking,” tilting her head she thought back to her experiences with Asgardians past, “I think I know just the thing.”

—-

He couldn’t shake the feeling of her skin, a clinging touch memory that seemed to have been branded into his fingertips. His hands clenched, nails biting deep into his palm as he paced the little room.

He didn’t know if it was some genetic weakness from the mark on his skin or simply his own boredom, but Loki couldn’t stop thinking about her.

She had _surprised_ him.

There weren’t many people who could. He read faces and motivations as easily as words on a page, anticipating every response and reaction like the next line in a familiar song. With her he found he couldn’t even recognise the tune.

It was infuriating.

Was this a cosmic joke or a cautionary tale? 

The room had begun to chafe already, the hollow the absence of his Aesir magic left working at him even now, an itch he couldn’t satisfy. And beneath it the throb of ice called to him - abilities he had once despised now begging to be released.

A world of cold, violent magic he could summon if only he closed his eyes and called.

But he couldn’t touch it. Not yet, not until he needed it. The beast snarled beneath his skin as he fought it back, begging for release even now. For _satisfaction_. His mortal flesh weak and tired against it.

He was on the edge of giving in when she appeared again.

_Darcy Lewis._

“I brought take out,” she swanned in like she owned the place, dropping several large paper bags onto the table, “I got extra incase you eat anything like your brother.”

He sneered on instinct, turning his back to her as she began to unload her wares. The madness flickered and faded at her appearance, draining down to a more familiar sort of malaise. One he was far better equipped to deal with.

”I am _nothing_ like Thor.”

He would not claim that man as a brother, not ever again. Monsters didn’t have families.

“Clearly,” she snorted, chair scraping against the hardwood floor as she took a seat, “he had manners. And here was me hoping you might be more palatable on a full stomach.”

Swallowing back the instant retort he turned instead, fixing his eyes on her at last. She had already started unladening her wares, more open than she had seemed before.

Schooled perhaps by his would be captors. 

“They’ve sent you for more information then, have they?” He clicked his tongue softly, “so impatient.”

“Hey, you asked for the independent attaché,” She shrugged, her dark hair spilling in front of her face. She swiped it back, nose scrunching as she looked at him, “unless you want to deal with someone else we’re doing this my way.”

“And what exactly is _your_ way?” He asked, stalking towards the table and bracing his hands against the back of the chair opposite her. Debating whether he should sit or not. 

Standing gave him power, gravitas, but sitting might lull her into a more receptive state. It was a dilemma.

“Quickly,” she opened a square cardboard box, a wave of scent washing free and teasing his empty stomach. Sweet and spicy all at once as she snapped two wooden sticks apart and stabbed them into the mixture, “and amicably.”

His gaze shot up at that, nothing about their previous encounters had spoken of amicability. His unwitting first impression with the Destroyer and her own loyalty to Thor had ensured that they would be at odds from the start. 

The fact she had tried to claw his words from her skin only drove it home. The image was imprinted behind his eyes, the desperate red marks against her wrist. Why would she wish to be amicable with the creature capable of driving her to _that?_

“What?” She asked, pausing over her meal with her eyebrows raised, as if she could sense his disbelief, “Agent Coulson told me why you’re here. He says you want to make amends for what you did, if that’s true, and if you really didn’t kill Thor, well then - I don’t see why we shouldn’t get through without the angst and drama. Let’s be… well not friends, but yaknow, _friendlier.”_

She smiled then, his equilibrium shifting off balance at the simple gesture. He should be pleased, her compliance would ensure his plans ran much smoother than if she was set against him but something about it sat heavy on his stomach. A feeling he couldn’t name as he slowly pulled out the chair opposite her and took a seat.

Shield were playing her. They were using her the way they were trying to use him, the way he was successfully using them. The spark in her eye told him she was well aware of the fact, only… only she didn’t seem to care. She had nothing to gain from either side and yet there she sat waiting for his response.

Confounding creature. 

“What is that?” He gestured to the boxes surrounding her, leaving his answer unspoken as he settled himself at the table.

“This-” she popped the plastic lid off a dish like a magician revealing a particularly cunning spell, “Is Chinese Food. It’s also a peace offering, because things can have more than one meaning.”

The smell of it hit him hard, he was loathe to admit how his mortal stomach _ached_ at it. A veritable feast of crisp fried pastries, sauce covered meats, and noodles piled with colourful vegetables being spread out before him.

“You should try the Kung Pao chicken,” she grinned, stealing a few samples from one of the dishes before pushing it towards him, “it’s like _top tier.”_

He accepted the offering warily, mimicking her actions with the sticks and toying with the food. The chicken was fragrant and sweet, a pleasing blend of flavours that mixed on his tongue as he carefully took a bite. It satisfied a distinctly human urge he was unwilling to acknowledge, all too aware of the mortal weaknesses his mortal form came with.

It was the same paper frailty they endured, the one he couldn’t understand. How could you live so freely knowing one wrong move could tear you apart completely?

Darcy waited until he was lost in thought before speaking again, “So tell me about the Tesseract.”

“Excuse me?” He fought to appear dignified even as he startled, swallowing his half-chewed mouthful with a glare as he straightened up in his seat. He was a fool to let himself fall off guard in her presence, even for a moment. 

Even if part of him _was_ silently impressed at her tactics.

“What?” She grinned, snapping her sticks at him like pincers, “did you think we’d be talking about the weather? The Tesseract, how does it work?”

“That is not an easy question to answer,” settling himself again he rolled his eyes at her, reaching for another dish with an imperious calm he’d spent centuries perfecting, “it is not readily explainable.”

She narrowed her gaze at him, “if this is a ‘you’re a dumb mortal who couldn’t possibly understand’ thing I’m taking my chicken and leaving.”

He pulled the container closer on instinct, removing it firmly from her reach. She was right, it was… _top tier._

“It is a ‘metaphysical improbability’ thing.” He sniffed, “The Tesseract is something that cannot be explained within the bounds of science alone, it is a fraction of the cosmos contained in a single entity. It requires the right mindframe, the right intentions. I cannot simply distill a formula for its use into a neat sized bite for you.”

“So you _don’t_ know how it works then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t you?” She crinkled her nose at him, somehow irritatingly attractive even as he fought the urge to snap at her, “cos it sure sounded like that to me.”

“You are wilfully misunderstanding me.”

“I wilfully do a lot of things, try a spring roll,” another dish was prodded towards him. Catching him off guard again as she delicately removed one of the lightly fried pastries from the top and shoved it whole into her mouth, “so if’s’not science w’is then?”

He winced at the undignified display, chewing his own ‘_spring roll_’ far more carefully as he considered the question. No matter how inelegantly phrased it was, it had merit. He had studied the Tesseract for decades, reading every known work about it and its fellow infinity stones, and even he still only knew a fraction of its potential.

It was cosmic in every sense of the word, a force beyond that which they understood. With it one could walk the realms of the universe as easily as breathing, guiding and siphoning its powers into a thousand different avenues. Ones that could lead to glory, to absolute conquering or absolute peace.

Or both.

It was no wonder Thanos and his cronies wanted it, not that Loki had any intention of giving it to them of course. No, he had much better plans for it, once it was at last in his hands. Ones that would help restore the full weight of his powers and set everything right again. 

Realising Darcy was still waiting for his response Loki set his thoughts aside.

“It is everything and nothing. Anyone can gain control of its surface powers with the right tools, but to truly understand its abilities it takes more than cold science.”

“If you can’t explain it, how are you going to help us with it?” She asked, mouth empty at last, her head tilting as she looked at him with something that appeared to be genuine curiosity. 

“I never said I couldn’t explain it, only that it would take a more studied effort to grant you the proper understanding. Quantum mechanics don’t exactly make for light dinner conversation.”

“Excuses excuses,” there was a thin line between teasing and mocking in her voice as she extended another dish to him. One he couldn’t quite balance no matter how hard he tried.

“Perhaps it would be easier if I showed you,” he offered as he reached to take it.

Their fingers met, a momentary brush of sensation he let linger for a handful of heartbeats. Pink flushed the apples of her cheek, her gaze darting quickly away as she pulled back.

“Eat your noodles first.”

  
  
  
  



	7. Moving Day

Darcy’s food gambit had worked flawlessly and she wasn’t too modest to admit it.

Shield might have been the professionals when it came to intelligence gathering, but it didn’t take a genius to realise dinner and a disarming smile would make most people talk faster than the Men in Black routine ever could.

There was a power in being underestimated, one she’d turned into an art form over the years. It was either that or go  _ completely _ insane. People had always had a habit of overlooking her; one glance, one word, and they’d formed a judgement on her entire character.

Maybe it was her own fault, she’d never worked particularly hard on fitting in after all. Content to be her own weird self even if it meant being passed over again and again by every boss, tutor and professor she’d ever had. She’d been safe in the knowledge that the people who liked her actually liked  _ her _ , not some watered down version she put on for their amusement. 

And hey, if the worst came to the worst at least she’d always been safe in the knowledge that one person was destined to love her no matter what she did, whether she needed them too or not. A cosmic partner in crime that wouldn’t care how weird she was.

Not that _that_ had turned out like she thought of course. 

“Hey, you busy?” Jane’s head appeared around the door, “I bought tea.”

“Jane!” She yelled, not caring that she sounded like a crazy person as she threw the jeans she was holding aside and lunged to open the door, “my saviour! I’ve been uh... packing.”

That was one way of putting it. Driving herself slowly mad with her own thoughts whilst standing in the middle of a bomb site made of clothing was another. The California Adventure was looming large on the horizon, all big and unknown and just a teeny tiny bit terrifying. The last thing she needed to do was psyche herself out now.

“I can see that,” Jane’s eyebrows lifted, passing a steaming mug to Darcy before making room to sit amongst the chaos on the bed, “did Coulson tell you anymore about what this trip is about?”

“Not really,” she shrugged, flopping down on the other side of the half-filled suitcase, “It’s gotta be about this Tesseract thing though, right?”

“I would think so. And you still haven’t told them about…” Jane trailed off, staring pointedly at the mark on her wrist.

The very exposed mark on her wrist.

_ Shit _ .

“Nope,” Darcy sprung back up, setting her cup aside untouched and pulling her sleeves down harder then was strictly necessary. She’d rolled them up when she was working, a mistake she wouldn’t be repeating anytime soon, “and I’m not going to either, it’s my business.”

“Darcy-”

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head, ignoring the plaintive note in Jane’s voice entirely, “I’m not having Shield poking around in my personal life. Now, which of these do you think is better?” She shoved two identical dresses in Jane’s face in an incredibly subtle attempt at changing the subject, “it’s like, hot in California right? So the grey?” 

They were both grey. And long sleeved. And probably entirely wrong for the climate. Darcy didn’t care, her wardrobe had never been designed for hot weather. She wasn’t a t-shirt and shorts kind of girl, preferring layers and layers of clothing. Maybe it was a safety thing, maybe it was just her style.

Either way she was pretty sure she was gonna roast. 

“Sure,” Jane sighed, a disappointed crease forming in her brow even as she gestured to one of the dresses, “and the lightweight cardigan, not that one - yeah, the green.”

“Perfect,” Darcy forced a smile, hurling them into her case only to have Jane pull them back out immediately and start folding, “How’s the bridge going by the way? Have you figured out how to compensate the rig for atmospheric anomalies?”

When in doubt. Science.

“Almost, I still have to recalibrate the meteorological pickups though,” Jane froze mid-fold, mouth falling open as she looked at Darcy like she’d grown another head, “you know about the atmospheric compensation?”

“What?” Darcy shrugged ever so slightly self consciously, reaching over to help fold some of the mess, “I’ve been your intern for like a year. I picked up some stuff.”

Jane smiled, setting the cardigan aside and reaching for another dress. A lightweight skater in deep plum.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you switch over to an Astrophysics Major? I could pull some strings with the department head.”

“I said I’d picked up some stuff, not grown an extra brain,” Darcy grinned back, tossing the other grey dress in just in case, “I’m a Poli-sci girl through and through.”

“Well, they’re lucky to have you.” Jane refolded the dress automatically, arranging everything with a neatness that totally contradicted her work space. Something in her expression flickered as she worked, worry seeping into her voice as she added, “are you sure you have to go on this trip though, Darce? It won’t be the same here without you.”

“You’ll be fine,” Darcy waved a hand at her, ignoring the tightness in her chest at Jane’s concern. Realising again just how far they’d come from strictly boss-and-intern to actual friend-and-friend. Even if Jane did sometimes underestimate her, she cared. That was the important thing.

“Still,” Jane sighed deeply, “I don’t think I _want_ you to go.”

“Honestly? I don’t know if I want to go either,” Darcy’s heart ached at the words, a bittersweet feeling as she looked down at her half-packed suitcase, “but I think I have to. Even if Shield weren’t pushing me into it I think I’d have to.” Her hand settled over her wrist, the mark warm beneath her sleeve as she ran her fingers across it, “I still don’t know what this means, Jane, what any of it does. I just want to understand it.”

Why here, why now, why him, why her. Just… _why._

Frustration simmered in her belly, a desperate pulling kind of feeling that hadn’t been cured by one half-civil conversation and some shared spring rolls. She had questions. Thousands of them. Ones she could only get the answers too if she was around  _ him. _

Darcy scrunched her nose, meeting Jane’s worried gaze with a shrug, “is that totally insane?”

“No, no it’s really not,” Jane reached out and placed her hand over Darcy’s, something unbearably supportive in her eyes. Something she really wanted to hold onto, even though she knew she couldn’t. “Just… just be careful okay, Darce?”

“I will be,” she promised, shaking off the tension and diving into her suitcase instead. Undoing all of Jane’s hard work as she rooted through it until she found what she was looking for, presenting the small black box to Jane with a flourish, “see? I’m even bringing my back up taser, just in case.”

Jane smiled at her then, the air lightening around them just a little as she nodded, “that’s more like it. Now, have you packed any socks yet?”

—-

They were moving him.

_ Badly. _

The vehicle he’d been stuffed into jerked violently as it took off into the sky. It’s single propellor the only thing keeping them aloft in an absolutely rudimentary display of flight. 

He leant back in his seat, content in the knowledge that if the worst came to it he could revert to his _ other _form, it was less than ideal but at least he would probably survive. The same couldn’t be said for the pilot though, or the woman next to him. He thought he might do his best to save her too though if it came to it, since the Norns had gone to all the trouble of bringing her here in the first place.

Even if he still couldn’t quite figure out exactly _why_.

It wasn’t as if he was blind. She was uncommonly attractive, especially for a midgardian, her layered wardrobe only serving to tease his senses with every glimpse of the curves hidden beneath. Luscious and feminine with her plump lips and teasing eyes.

But he had lived far too long to be moved by such a fickle thing as beauty. He was not Thor or Volstagg, he didn’t become a moonstruck fool every time a pretty girl smiled at him.

It must be something more, some deeper reason, one he found himself with time to contemplate as she sat silent beside him. That was another unexpected turn, after their _ dinner _and her claims of friendship he thought she would be more talkative. She usually seemed to be.

“Are all your methods of transportation so smooth?” he asked, breaking the heavy silence himself, his voice raised over the mechanic roar of their transport, “I confess I assumed you would have come further since my last sojourn here.”

Her eyes had been shut but one opened when he spoke, full lips parting for a split second in surprise before they pressed together again. 

“Yeah, when was th- _ ack _ !” Her words were lost to a strangled gasp as the craft jolted, her knuckles clenched white against her knees, “_never mind.”_

Her defeat seemed utterly uncharacteristic, unless of course… “I don’t suppose you’re afraid of heights, are you?”

“I’m fine with heights,” the words came out between gritted teeth, her whole body stiff with tension as she glared at him with both eyes at last, “it’s just being at those heights in a _ flying death trap _that I have a problem with.”

He chuckled despite himself, earning another glower that only lasted until the next burst of turbulence. The helicopter rattling around them and taking the last of the colour from her face as she squeezed her eyes shut again.

“Calm yourself,” he said, unable to keep from reaching out and placing his hand over hers, “it will be over soon.”

Realising what he’d done he drew back, eyes widening as her hand shot after him. Her fingers suddenly wrapped tightly around his, squeezing with an impressive force as the craft shook. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she squeaked, “Could you please, like, be a decent human being and distract me or something? _Please?” _

It had been longer than he cared to think about since someone had touched him so freely, the sensation catching him off guard. Her hand was warm in his.

“I’m neither decent nor a human being,” he reminded her, the words not nearly as bitter as they usually tasted. He couldn’t help but rub his thumb across her knuckles in an experimental swipe of contact.

“Right now I don’t care if you’re an evil pigeon. Just talk to me about something other than our _imminent death_.”

She didn’t move away. _ Interesting. _He repeated the action carefully, unaccountably taken with the sensation of her soft skin under the calloused pad of his thumb.

“If you wish, what should I speak to you about?”

“I dunno, just… just tell me about yourself,” she was breathing unsteadily, face still paler than he cared to see it, “like… did you really give birth to a horse?”

“_Excuse me?” _

Of all the things she could have asked him that hadn’t even occurred to him, his eyes widening as she looked up at him at last. A half smile on her face that fell loose as the transport shook again.

That was when she seemed to realise she was still holding onto him. Her hand drawing away at last and leaving him unaccountably bereft in her wake. His touch starved skin turning traitorous.

“What? I googled you.” She said, hands twisting in her lap instead as she forced herself to say the words, “The - the stories are nuts by the way. Are you a horse mommy?”

“I am not,” he replied as cooly as he could, even as he fought the urge to snatch her hand back. It seemed churlish of her to give it to him only to take it away again so soon. “I have raised many horses in my years, but have birthed exactly _ none _ of them.”

“Much less dramatic,” she smiled for real then, her breath evening at the same rate as the craft did. The mechanical whine settling into a background rumble as the jerking stopped almost entirely, “but kind of adorable. How about a giant wolf? Did you father one of those?”

“No.”

“World eating snake?”

“Norns, no. I’m a shape shifter not the whore of the animal kingdom.”

What kind of stories had the mortals concocted in his absence? 

“Good to know,” she grinned, a shadow of her old self returning as she looked away, adding casually to the window, “Are you married?”

“Am I…” his eyes widened, “surely it didn’t say _ that _ too?”

“Yup,” the flight had smoothed out completely, the shaking of the craft no longer accountable for his quickening pulse as she looked back with a raised eyebrow, “some lady named _Siggy_.”

“Oh, Sigyn,” he rolled his eyes, another seed of truth twisted into a ridiculous story. At least there was more in it than the rampant bestiality they seemed to want to fit him for.

He was so disgruntled at the thought of their crassness he almost missed the slight change in Darcy’s expression. The way her eyes shifted and cheeks pinkened.

“Why do you ask, Miss Lewis?” He couldn’t keep from smirking as a thought occurred, as odd as it was disturbingly pleasing, “You’re not... _ jealous _ are you?”

“Of course not!” The words came out too fast, the colour deepening in her wan cheeks as she looked anywhere but at him, “I’m just curious, that’s all.” 

He waited, counting down in his head from ten as she stared resolutely at anything but him. He got to five before she spoke again 

“_So?” _

It was all he could do not to laugh, some things it seemed were universal. Leaning closer he shrugged, utterly casual now the machine had stopped trying to shake apart around them and the colour had returned to her skin.

“We passed the time together for a while. It was all _terribly_ convenient.” She caught her lip between her teeth as he spoke, blushing prettily even as she did her best to appear unaffected, “You see she was rather taken with a shieldmaiden named Brunhilde and I made an excellent cover, not to mention the fact it stopped my father using me to forge any new… _ alliances _with Vanaheim.”

“You mean…” her eyes shot back to him at last, flickering back and forth over his face as her mouth parted.

“The songs all say that she was so faithful to me after we parted ways she never even _ looked _ at a man again.” He couldn’t help but lean closer still, inhaling the vanilla of her shampoo as he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I suppose they weren’t entirely wrong.”

She _ laughed._

It caught him off guard, the surprised trill of sound shooting through him as she looked up at him through dark lashes. He felt it warm in his chest, his right arm aching beneath his shirt. A spark that seemed to lace through his skin like electricity.

Like gold.

—-

Darcy hadn’t been jealous.

Why _ would _ she have been? She didn’t know him, didn’t have any claim over him other than whatever cosmic fuckery had matched up their marks. Nope, she had simply been surprised that was all. Her emotions running high due to the death trap they’d been stuck in. 

Planes, trains and automobiles she was fine with but helicopters was where she drew the line. Especially rickety ass little ones that got buffeted about on the wind like a kids toy.

She for _ sure _wasn’t relieved when she found out he wasn’t married either. Like, he’d been around for a thousand odd years, that was his business. She was just glad there seemed to be a semi-decent side to him, that was all. One that was happy to play beard to a Viking space lesbian and had been nice to her during the flight from hell. 

_ Nice._

Ha. There was a descriptor she never thought she’d give to him. Superior? Sure. Intense? Definitely. But… _ nice_? It made her head loopy. Her conversation with Jane had had her half convinced she’d have to tase him again before they made it out of the state. 

“You’re both on sub level five, that’s where the quarters and the mess hall are.” Clint’s voice cut into her thoughts, he’d taken the lead since they’d landed. Dropping out of the cockpit to lead them into the base. “The labs are on level four and three respectively. It’s a standard layout, so nothing too fancy.”

“I’m sure your accommodations will be perfectly… adequate.” Loki said with the hint of a sneer.

She couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at that. Weirdly comforted by the fact he was still a dick, well, most of the time at least. 

They’d reached a bank of elevators in an otherwise deserted hallway in a big, grey office building. The doors pinging open when Clint jammed the button.

He waved Loki in first with an exaggerated bow, “It’s no palace, sure, _ your highness. _But we make do.”

She rolled her eyes, stopping to adjust her duffel bag before following the men in. The door pinged again, the doors trying to close on her as she awkwardly shoved her suitcase in.

Loki was there immediately, pulling her deftly out of the way as Clint hit the button for the floor they wanted. She opened her mouth to thank him and then shut it again, not sure what to say exactly as they descended.

The silence hung thick in the air. Clint’s eyes were narrowed, fixed pointedly on the place where Loki’s hand met her arm. She hadn’t even noticed he was still holding onto her.

“So Clint, are you staying here too?” She shifted subtly away from Loki, freeing her arm on the pretext of stretching the kinks from her shoulders with a fake yawn.

“Sure am, kiddo,” Clint’s expression brightened, “my room’s _ right _ next to yours, y’know, just in case you need anything.”

His eyes travelled back to Loki, the dull silver walls shrinking as the men folk eyed each other up.

Yeesh.

This was gonna be fun.


	8. Time Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh sorry this chapter is so late guys! We got a new kitten this week so every moment of my free time has been spent ensuring the dog doesn’t try to eat it 🤣
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me anyway! I hope this stupid amount of absolutely nothing is okay before we get back to the plot 💜

Time didn’t seem to matter underground, they’d been there for almost a week and it might as well have been a year. Or a moment for that matter.

Darcy headed for the canteen, the stainless steel clock on her stainless steel bedside table said it was four am but she didn’t care. She couldn’t sleep and she wanted coffee. Well, what she _ really _ wanted was to get the hell out of there but coffee would do in a pinch. 

It wasn’t Disneyland that was for sure. She hadn’t even seen the sun since they’d touched down, her whole life narrowing down to a maze of interlocking corridors and spartan rooms. 

The one real bonus was finding Erik already here, his super secret missions obviously aligning with theirs. Even then though things had gotten a little _ awkward _to say the least when it came time to introduce Loki to him. She’d had to call on all her diplomacy skills to skirt around _ who _ was the brother of _who_, and _ who _ had sent a giant robot _where_. Herding them gently back to the science they were there for before any accusations could be hurled or royal feathers ruffled.

“You’re up early.”

Darcy startled at the voice, jolting around to find Clint already hunched over the table in the kitchenette. She hadn't seen him as much as she thought she would but then she assumed he was off guarding the Tesseract, wherever it might be. Shield hadn’t actually confirmed it was in the facility but _ really _ \- why else would they have been dragged out to the middle of nowhere?

“Or you’re up late,” she countered, heading straight for the caffeine, “who knows in this place.”

“You get used to it,” he kicked the chair out next to him, inviting her to sit with a nod of his head.

“I hope not,” dropping into the offered seat she upended the sugar dispenser into her mug before bombing it with creamers, “how have you not gone completely insane down here?”

Clint grinned at her, “who says I haven’t?”

She snorted, eyeing up the pile of danishes sitting in front of him as her stomach rumbled. She would blame it on her messed up internal clock but honestly, any time was the right time for pastries. 

“Are you gonna eat those?”

“Have at it kid,” he nudged the plate towards her, something silver flashing on his skin as he shifted his arm.

It was the first time she’d seen him without his wrist-bracer thingys on, her eyes widening at the delicate line of text clearly visible along the side of his forearm. It was so perfectly neat it looked like it had been printed on him.

“Is that a… ?” she heard herself ask, knowing it was a total social _ faux pas _ but unable to stop. 

So much of her mind had been focused on those stupid cosmic words recently, even the daily science slog and the fact she was about to reach level two thousand on Candy Crush couldn’t fully distract her from it. Not when she spent almost every waking moment _ attaché _-ing a space prince who just so happened to be her alleged secret soul mate. 

He was almost… _ decent _ about the whole thing too, which just made it more confusing. Sure there was a constant air of smug superiority about him, but he was still polite to a fault. Answering graciously when the scientists pressed him for information, mixing myth and magic and science together like they were trifles.

“It sure is,” he held up his arm so she could see the words better, completely unselfconscious about the whole thing. It was kind of weird to meet someone so open about them after hiding hers for so long.

“‘_You should have... shot me... when you had… the chance… _ ’” she read the twisting words aloud, blowing out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding at the nature of them, “_damn._ And I thought...”

Realising what she was about to say she bit down on her tongue, hoping that somehow the _ trained spy _wouldn’t notice her slip up. She’d gotten this far without anyone realising, probably best not to fuck it all up now.

“It wasn’t the most auspicious first meeting to be sure,” he flicked a finger lovingly against the mark as he spoke, a familiar gesture, like he’d done it a thousand times before, “but that’s how I knew it would be fun. We were on opposite sides of the field y’see, Shield wanted me to take her out but even before we spoke I knew it wasn’t gonna happen.”

“_You were enemies?_” She almost shouted, wincing at herself and dropping her voice to a strangled whisper instead, “Like… she was a _ bad guy_?”

_ Wow. Way to over simplify, Darcy. _

“The baddest,” he grinned, apparently immune to her awkwardness as he raised his mug, “although it wasn’t all her fault, she was raised in a certain way by certain people. She wanted out though, wanted _ more. _She just needed someone to give her a chance.”

Darcy’s stomach squeezed, an awkward twist of feeling that had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with his story. It fluttered up into her chest, warm and hopeful and _ deeply _uncomfortable. 

“And you guys…?” She wasn’t sure what she was asking, she just knew she had to ask _something_. Clinging onto his story with both hands, metaphorically at least.

“It was rocky at the start, I won’t lie,” Clint laughed, “but patience and understanding work miracles, can’t imagine life without her now. The murder attempts were totally worth it in the end.”

So she wasn’t the only one whose apparent bonded had tried to murder them then. It was the weirdest thing she’d ever been comforted by, wrapping herself in the feeling as she broke her croissant into smaller and smaller pieces on autopilot. Absolutely invested in everything he had to say.

“So, uh… what do her words say?” 

“I don’t really remember, _ ‘freeze’ _ maybe?” He tapped his mug thoughtfully, “no, I think it might have been “‘_don’t move’ _actually.’”

“You don’t _ remember_?”

She had Loki’s words tattooed onto the back of her eyelids even though she’d only seen them once. Her own imperfect hand scrawled across his stupidly perfect arm. Sometimes she thought about how long he must have worn them, decades, _centuries _even_, _long before her mother’s mother's mother had been born. 

The scale of the connection terrified her.

That was usually when she stopped thinking about it, burying her head in the sand again. Who ever said ignorance was bliss had the right idea. 

“She doesn't actually have them on her anymore,” seeing Darcy’s immediate shock Clint shrugged his shoulders, “the people who… _ well_, let’s just say she had them removed when she was young, so as not to divide her loyalty. She has a scar and I have these.”

“Didn’t that… didn’t that change things?” Darcy swallowed hard, pushing the plate of crumbs away uneaten. 

The words were what made the bond didn't they? That’s the reason people had them in the first place. Without them the bond would surely sever, the connection hanging broken between them. A one way stream of feeling that bled out before it could reach its ending.

It was something else she couldn’t bring herself to think about, no matter how much she silently complained about her own mark. 

“Of course not,” Clint rolled his eyes at her, slapping her shoulder like she’d asked if the sky turned green on the weekends, “this thing is just set dressing. The bond isn’t skin deep, it isn’t kept in a mark, it’s in the _ people. _ It’s the chances we take and those we give them, _ if _they’ve earned them of course. Remember that, huh?”

He rose at last, giving her a knowing look that made her immensely glad she hadn’t eaten after all. Swallowing around a suddenly dry throat she nodded, unable to get much more from her mouth then “_sure _” before he left.

The words stayed with her long after he’d gone, replaying in her head over and over until it was all she could think about as she traipsed through the empty hallways. Until _ Loki _was all she could think about. The stories she knew about him and all the ones she didn’t, the thousands of reasons he might have for wanting to change.

For wanting a _ chance. _

She was so wrapped up in it she didn’t notice the man himself approaching her until she’d walked straight into him. 

It was like walking into a wall. A wall who caught her before she could fall directly onto her ass.

“Jeez, _ ow_,” she glared up at him like it was his fault, rubbing what she was certain was gonna be an impressive red patch on her forehead, “what are you made of, dude? You nearly broke my glasses.”

“What a pity when they seem to be doing such an _ admirable _job,” he replied snarkily, plucking them from her face before she could think to stop him, “how many people would you crash into without these? Really, it’s a wonder Shield doesn’t utilise you as a weapon.”

She blushed, loathe to admit the glasses were more of a choice than a necessity. Another layer she could hide herself in. 

Which unfortunately meant she was nowhere _ near _ short-sighted enough to miss how strange he looked as he slipped them onto his face. Strange in a _ ‘hot English professor you completely wanted to bone’ _kinda way.

Not that she wanted to bone Loki. 

Like, _ sure, _he was bone-able, what with being the single most attractive person she’d ever seen and all. Those cheekbones and that voice and those long, elegant fingers and dark lashes… _ But _ that didn’t mean that _ she _wanted to bone him. She had no interest in seeing him naked at all. Honestly.

Clearing her throat awkwardly she held up her hand, wiggling her fingers expectantly at him.

“Not that I’m not loving the vacation from looking at your smug face,” _ lie, _ “but I kinda need those back.” _ Another lie. _

—-

He hadn’t been expecting her when he had set off through the honeycomb halls, needing to clear his head before the day began in earnest.

His plans were unfurling around him, shaping the situation like clay with every careful word he shared with the scientists. He could _ feel _the Tesseracts power flooding the veins of the building around him, even if he had yet to lay eyes on it.

It made him restless, his patience wearing thin as he paced the halls each morning, working the tension from his bones even as he looked for places the power flowed thickest.

He was engaged in such a search when she appeared, walking face first into him and knocking the thought straight from his head.

“First tell me where you were going with such singular determination,” he said, ignoring her outstretched hand as he squinted through the slightly magnified glass. She was not nearly as blind as she pretended to be it seemed, “some vital mission perhaps?”

“I dunno,” She shrugged, her nose crinkling as she gave up reaching for them and crossed her arms instead, “I was just walking. Tryna find somewhere the air hasn’t been recycled through god knows how many mouths.”

It was an admirable goal, one that explained the agitation in her eyes and the impatient jumping of her foot. He nodded seriously, “An excellent idea, come along then.”

He didn’t wait for a response, removing her spectacles from his face and tucking them into his pocket as he walked away.

“Hey! What idea? I didn’t have any ideas!”

His mouth curved.

He had already called the elevator by the time she caught up with him, her face flushed with the sudden exertion. Eyes bright and wary.

“You want fresh air and I know where to find it,” He said, his hand braced against the elevator doors to keep them open, “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I don’t think we’re allowed...” she hesitated, looking from him to the elevator and back again.

“Are you a prisoner here, Miss Lewis?” He arched a brow at her, “am _ I_?”

“Well no, but-”

“But nothing, they cannot begrudge us a few moments of freedom from this wretched dungeon.”

He watched the decision play out over her features, so openly expressive even now. Hesitation, uncertainty, _ want. _ He cleared his throat, gesturing impatiently to the waiting transport.

Her face settled, mouth firming into a line as she strode past him at last. 

“If we get into trouble I’m blaming you. Now, my glasses please.”

She held her hand out again as he pushed the button for the ground floor. He ignored it entirely, pulling the spectacles from his pocket and placing them directly on her face instead. Careful not to startle her as he settled them on the bridge of her nose.

She inhaled sharply, a soft intake of breath he stored away for later study. Making a note of the sensation of her hair against his fingertips as well, spun silk beneath his hands as he smoothed it into place around the frames.

“There,” he said, his pulse beating strong beneath his skin as he drew back at last, “They suit you far better than me anyway.”

There was something oddly fetching about the way they magnified her already impressive eyes. Although with or without them she was still a singular beauty. He had accepted his aesthetic appreciation of her, allowing himself to admire her face and form without shame now they’d been forced into such close quarters together.

But there was more to her than that.

Something that unsettled him more than any simple beauty could as he turned away to watch the floors tick by.

She was keenly intelligent behind her irreverence, there could be no denying it, possessing an easy sort of charm that few seemed immune too. He’d watched as she’d taken control of the laboratory as easily as breathing, directing the great minds of Shield like it was her birthright.

She had a subtle but firm hand, her commands followed without question when she told them to break for food or rest, or when she scolded them for leaving the room in chaos or endangering the notes with their mess. They may have considered themselves her intellectual superior, but it was Darcy Lewis who controlled their work. Even if she didn’t seem to realise it herself.

It was _ fascinating. _

“Has oxygen always tasted this good?” She asked, pulling him from his thoughts as they stepped out into the open air at last. The guards largely ignoring them as they made their towards the edge of the compound.

“I can hardly remember,” he quipped, pausing by the endless chain link fence as she lifted herself up to sit on one of the crates that littered the ground.

Once more the queen of her own domain, she gestured offhandedly to the space beside her. Apparently content in the silence as she tilted her head up to the heavens.

He took the offered seat obligingly, breathing deeply as he looked up into the cosmos too. He’d forgotten how flat the sky was here. A vast, empty presence above them with only a single moon and a spattering of stars. On Asgard it crowded in close, a kaleidoscope view of the universe wrapping their world like a blanket.

Perhaps this great emptiness was preferable.

It felt freer somehow. 

“Will you tell me what had you so distracted now?” He asked, watching the way the horizon shifted from purple to pink to orange, a slow spread of colours carried on wisps of clouds over the arid desert. Lighting the occasional straggling tree and rock, and _ her. _

“Hmm? Oh, that,” her eyes were bluer than usual in the early morning light, her voice softened as if she didn’t want to disturb the hush of the dawn, “I was just thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?” 

“About you.” He hadn’t been expecting that, his silver tongue turning to lead as she looked over at him from far too close, “You said… you said you were fighting Thor to protect your kingdom, when we talked back in New Mexico. What did you mean by that?”

He didn’t immediately reply, unsure if he should or not. If perhaps some things were not better left in the past. 

Maybe they were but it seemed he couldn’t leave them there, the urge was too strong. His whole body consumed with a desperate need to have someone understand his actions.

“The Thor you know is very different to the one I was raised with,” he said to the fence after a long moment had passed, “I lived as his brother for a thousand years and in all that time I saw nothing that would mark him as a good king. He had always been brash and foolhardy, brave yes - but bullheaded too. And he loved nothing so much as courting war.”

“War?” She repeated quietly, her face free of judgement. For now at least.

“Yes, he lived for battle. To smite Asgard’s enemies in glorious combat, whether they were real or imagined. He had no reason with which to balance his thirst for violence, under his rule the kingdom, _ my _kingdom, would have suffered. And yet it was to him that Odin would pass the crown.”

“So you thought you could do a better job?” She half smiled at that, a wry expression as she hitched an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, I don’t think I could have done a _ worse _ job,” he replied, some of the ache lessening beneath her easy gaze, “at first I sought only to delay his coronation until he was ready, but fate rarely sees fit to allow us our first plans. No matter what my intentions were things… _ escalated. _I had used the enmity between Asgard and Jotunheim as my weapon, and Thor would not settle until he had retaliated against them.”

“What happened?” 

Loki sighed as the memories unfurled behind his eyes, unsure how he could ever adequately describe the beginning of the end. 

“He mounted a raiding party, defying Odin’s orders. Knowing it might well reignite the old war, I counselled retreat. Instead he killed ten score of them on an insult,” _ because they had called him princess, _ Loki thought, _ what a king he would have been, _“the battle that followed... well, it set into motion things that could not be undone.”

He cut himself off before he could go any further, turning away at last. Some things he couldn’t face, not even now. Not with her. The madness still hung heavy over his shoulders, a horror he couldn’t fully escape no matter how hard he ran from it. 

It felt like even now he could fall beneath its sway again, one wrong breath all it would take to lose himself completely.

“I thought…” her elbow nudged his side as she pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees as she looked up at him with a furrowed brow, “Didn’t you once say you were rightful king of yotenheiny?”

“_Jotunheim_,” he corrected, trying not to wince at his own hubris. He had been so determined to prove his own superiority he had loosed words better left unspoken, “but that is another story for another time, I think. Here.”

He shrugged off his coat, dropping it around her shoulders. The cold chill of the night was still clinging to the desert sands and he could see it was affecting her. Noting the shiver it set in her shoulders and the way her hands chafed together silently.

It wouldn’t do for her to sicken now, that was the only reason he did it. At least that’s what he told himself. That and well... it wasn’t as if he really felt the cold.

“Um… thanks,” she looked away, cheeks colouring as she pulled awkwardly at the collar, settling it closer around her body, “it sounds like you were trying to do what you thought was best for your world, although I’m pretty sure there was a better way of doing it than fratricide. Thor might not have made a good king, but he’s still human. Well, Asgardian or whatever.”

“You believe me then?” It was a novel feeling, and a surprisingly pleasant one at that. Warm between his ribs as he glanced over at her. Even the mention of his once-brother couldn’t taint it.

“People have flaws, even big beefy thunder gods,” she shrugged, “but they can grow too. I don’t believe anyone is all good or all evil.” There was a pause, something far more serious than he was used to shadowing her face. Something he couldn’t name. Then, as soon as it had appeared it had gone, her voice turning joking again, “Apart from my old drama teacher, she was _ definitely _all evil.”

“I could send a Destroyer if you liked,” he offered, only half joking, “I have some practice after all.”

“Ha, don’t tempt me,” she grinned, playing with the fastenings of his coat before she looked up again, her eyes crinkling in the corners, “look at us having a civil conversation and everything, I’m so proud of us.”

“Hmm,” he agreed dryly, “we’re practically soul mates.”

“Very funny,” she snorted, rubbing her wrist through her sweater, “at least my mom will stop trying to make me go to WordCon now. That’s a silver lining I guess.”

“What is _ ‘WordCon?’ _” 

“It’s… it’s like this big convention thing they hold every year in different cities. It’s for people like us, with _ marks,_ y’know? Thousands of people meet up there and say random shit to each other in hopes it might trigger something.”

He was fascinated by the way she sighed, and the way her hands moved when she spoke. Sketching the air like she could make the words appear there.

“And you never felt the urge to attend?” He prompted, the thought of her looking for him settling strangely in his belly.

“Nah,” she shrugged, tilting her head just a little, “I was pretty sure my soulmate wasn’t the kinda person who’d be into that kind of thing.”

He hitched an eyebrow at her, “I suppose you weren’t wrong.”


	9. Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh another slow update! I’m so sorry gang - I’m still pet watching, *and* I’ve got three deadlines coming up (two of them ironically for Marvel lol) so my real life is getting in the way of my fandom life again!
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me though - your comments mean more to me then I will ever be able to fully express! 💜💜💜

The creature was back.

Loki had almost let himself forget it until it was towering over him, a spectre in his chambers with its eyeless face fixed firmly upon him.

He had been too consumed with his own plans to much worry about Thanos. He had watched the sun rise three times since that first day, each time sat beside the woman fate would claim to be his soulmate. Perhaps it was folly, or some genetic trick, but he swore that each time he felt the thinnest shadow of his old self return. Remnants of a person whose bones were not fuelled by bitterness alone.

“You’ve returned have you?” Loki didn’t look up, swiping the page of the tablet they’d left him with. He was perusing the mortals research, it wasn’t half bad. They had some basic understanding of the Tesseract’s output if not it’s true potential. 

A valiant effort considering that not so very long ago they were living in stone huts and fighting each other with spears.

“You’re getting closer, Laufeyson.” The creature said, the imperious lilt to its voice setting his teeth on edge.

Whoever this celestial errand boy was, Loki didn’t like it one bit 

“And you’re still so very far away,” he glanced up at last, lip curling as he deigned to acknowledge it, “how much energy do these little visits cost you exactly? I imagine it’s quite a lot.”

“That is not your concern.”

“I suppose not,” flicking to another page he returned to his research. Dismissing the creature without a second glance.

“I would think you would be more eager for your prize, son of Laufey,” frustration grated in its voice, a sound he had always been particularly gifted at inspiring in others, “you have near earned it, after all.”

“Ah yes, about that,” clicking the device off he cast it aside completely, rising at last to face the creature, “I’ve been wondering - how  _ exactly _ do you intend to shower me with these endless gifts; a crown, a kingdom, an army even, when you are so very distant?”

“You are not the only one with abilities, master of mischief, the great Thanos would grant you a boon with which this planet would kneel willingly before you. One touch of its power and anyone would fall under your sway… even the girl would be helpless to resist you. No matter your…  _ form.” _

Loki’s spine tensed, teeth clenching hard at the suggestion. The thought of her devotion… it awoke something in him, a primal possessive urge that ran like fire through his bones. He had felt it first inside of the flying death machine they’d been forced into and it had only seemed to grow since, rearing ugly and sharp when she spoke to the boy with the arrows, or hugged the good Doctor Selvig even.

Loki hadn’t fully realised the depth of it until a welp of a scientist had tried to gain her attention in the lab, so earnest with his calf eyes and shaky hands Loki had almost crushed the device he was working on. That had been dealt with of course, the boy had been easy to frighten, but still the thought stuck. 

He couldn’t escape the heated little ache he felt at the thought of her adoration, her  _ trust.  _ To be given freely the confidence she so often bestowed in others.

But to get it like  _ that?  _

Sourness washed his mouth, the creature’s innuendo sickening and infuriating him in equal measures, and beneath it… beneath it was something worse. The cold realisation it was  _ right.  _ For all her smiles, the moment Darcy saw his true form it would be over. Her disgust as inevitable as the sunrise. 

“So I would make my own army from the slaves of my will?” He forced himself to hide his true feelings, unwilling to show weakness to the creature even now. To show just how ready he was to snap its neck if he was given half the chance, “It sounds terribly ineffectual.”

“We would  _ give _ you an army, the Chitauri are a fierce warrior race. They would be yours to command,” it spread its misshapen hands as it spoke, a gloating tone in its voice as if it thought it had already won, “all the tools you would need to conquer this realm would be at your disposal, and so much more besides. So, are you ready now to pledge yourself to my master?”

“I am still considering my options,” he shrugged airily, feeling the creature’s gaze turn sharp, “but rest assured I shall keep your  _ generous _ offer in mind.”

“My master-”

“Is  _ great, _ yes, but surely even he wouldn’t enter into a bargain without fully examining its implications. If you wish to work with a fool you have come to the wrong door,” he reached for his magic, it had sat untouched and aching since he’d discovered it. An icy tumour that throbbed as he drew on it at last, “that will be all.”

The spell flew out, jagged and sharp where he had expected smoothness. The connection the creature had used severed, blocked out by a cold pain that left Loki gasping in the suddenly empty room.

His magic had always been a subtle thing, understated and slick. A promise spoken in a golden whisper, or a razor sharp dagger between the exact right ribs. 

_ This _ was nothing like that at all.

The magic ground beneath his skin like broken glass, digging into his weakened mortal flesh. It was a stark reminder of exactly how incompatible Jotun magic was with his human form. Only a giant or an Aesir could hope to control it fully.

Gritting his teeth he pushed the thought away, painful or not he would not sacrifice his form for the sake of the magic. He couldn’t condemn his skin back to ice. He may have accepted he was a monster but the sight of it was still more than he could bear.

Inhaling he drew himself upwards, hissing as a sharp pain sliced through the crook of his elbow like a knife. Heart stuttering he dragged up his sleeve and immediately regretted it.

Blue.

His skin was stained  _ blue.  _ Cold and foreign beneath his questing fingers as he examined the affected area. Breathing deeply he summoned the magic again, shaking as he tried to force it into the shape of a transformation spell. It fought him, twisting and cutting inside of him as the mark only grew. A slow spreading disease that ate away at him with every ounce of magic he expended.

Fear clenched in his gut, throat tight as he let the spell go. Only then did the stain stop spreading, leaving a patch three inches wide on the inside of his elbow. A stark reminder of the price his frost magic seemed determined to take from him.

Nothing less than his last piece of self, his last piece of _sanity_.

Loki turned away. His heart was beating too fast as he pulled his sleeve down, a painful thudding against his ribs as he faced his own reality. He had been foolish to let his guard slip, to forget for even a second what truly lurked beneath his skin. 

What he  _ was. _

What he had to do.

He would not make the same mistake again. 

The time for action had come, the comfortable little world he’d spun for himself shattering like the illusion it had always been.

—-

It was the big day.

Apprehension and excitement hung in the air like smoke, filling Darcy’s lungs until she was about ready to choke on it as she bounced towards the lab. Brad was already waiting to meet them, official Shield Science Gopher that he was, Erik and the others apparently in the  _ main chamber  _ awaiting them. Like it was Dracula’s castle or something. 

Well, maybe Frankenstein’s castle was a better comparison what with all the freaky science stuff and everything. Not that she could remember if he actually  _ had  _ a castle, there was definitely a windmill though. She shrugged the thought off, either way it was ominous and strange and  _ super _ exciting.

Her pulse was jumping like a trained dolphin as Loki joined them and Brad ushered them at last through a secret door into the bowels of the facility. The corridors within even starker and shinier than ever. 

This was it. 

This was what they’d been waiting for.

If Loki could fix this damn Tesseract thing for Shield she stood a chance of seeing daylight again before she was old and grey. Well,  _ sustained  _ daylight at least. She had been going up to the surface more and more often recently, sneaking out with Loki before the day officially started to watch the sun rise.

She didn’t even want to admit how much she’d started looking forward to it, those few stolen moments above ground. Just the two of them sitting beneath the open sky, talking about little things. Nothing political or controversial, just life and history, magic and music. 

It turned out Asgard didn’t have iPods, something Darcy was absolutely horrified by.  But it  _ did _ have pegasuses… uh…  _ pegasi _ .  _ Apparently _ . Which was entirely life changing information for former pony-mad six year olds everywhere.

“Exciting, huh?” She whispered, nudging him in the side as the silence thickened around them the deeper they walked, unable to keep from grinning, “we finally get to play with the real thing.”

“Hardly **,” ** he didn’t return her smile, a sharp note of derision in his voice, “it is long past time they stopped wasting my talents on theoreticals.”

“Jeez,” she squinted up at him in confusion, trying to keep the mood upbeat even as his sudden personality change threw her off balance, “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Perhaps you should save your inane observations for the laboratory.” His eyes were cold and hard, never quite touching her own as he dismissed her with a sneer, “or better yet spare us them entirely for once.”

The words sliced into her, a sharp insult that had her face flushing in embarrassment. She looked away from him, the memory of every person who’d ever told her to shut up suddenly compounded in his words.

“Wow,  _ rude _ .” She muttered, lengthening her stride to outpace him as her cheeks stung. She knew he could catch up if he wanted too but he’d just made it perfectly clear that that wouldn’t be a problem.

What an  _ asshole _ . 

She’d really thought they’d found a balance, sure most of the time he was just as smug and superior as ever, but he could be funny too.

Almost… almost  _ charming.  _

Only clearly he wasn’t. Clearly she was just an  _ idiot _ . 

It was the surprise that got to her, she told herself, that was all. Really she was just mad at herself for letting herself forget who he was. 

The door came into view at last, a physical sigh of relief crawling up in her throat as she set her sights on the main chamber. She would have known it in an instant even if Brad hadn’t stopped awkwardly at the door, it was hard to miss with the two Shield agents on either side wielding big ass guns.

“It’s just through here,” Brad said, swiping his pass awkwardly and holding the door open for them, “Miss Lewis, uh… y-your highness.”

“Thanks, Bradley,” she forced extra cheeriness into her smile as she patted the gopher’s arm. She almost wished he’d worked up the nerve to ask her for coffee now, she had been certain he was going to at one point but then he must have changed shifts or something. Another friend would‘ve been nice, “it's good to see you again.”

Hauling in a deep breath she turned her back on Loki without a second glance, showing him exactly how little she cared about his opinion as she entered the room.

Nope,  _ room _ was the wrong word. That implied a normal sized structure that could probably fit inside a house, this place was so big several houses could fit inside  _ it.  _

The concrete seemed to stretch out for miles around and above her. She was pretty sure if she shouted the sound would echo off the ceiling for hours. 

Desks and shelves and science-stuff filled one half of the space like the most high-tech episode of hoarders waiting to happen, the other was weirdly empty. There was some kind of sci-fi space pad thing at the end and, between that and them, a round silver thing holding something blue and glowing. 

“Woah, Erik my man,” she called as the scientist un-hunched himself from a display to greet them, “this place is…”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” He seemed even more science-high than usual as he led her into the chaos. That perfect blend of frustration and intrigue in his eyes that Jane always got when she was working on a particularly stubborn project.

Ugh,  _ Jane. _

Darcy wished she was here now, she would love this place. The ‘no information in or out’ thing had really taken its toll on Darcy, three dozen emails saved in her drafts folder as she wrote missive after missive to Jane that she couldn’t send. Stupid things about the compound, about Erik, and how she didn’t need to worry about packing her summer clothes cos it was  _ cold  _ in the basement. About… about  _ other _ people and sunrises and stupidity.

Swallowing down the thought Darcy tuned back into the moment. Erik was still talking, gesturing excitedly towards the big silver circle thing. 

“We’ve kept her in a modified fusion cradle while we work on the blueprints for the new setup. She’s connected to the network here-”

‘ _ She’,  _ Darcy realised, was the glowing blue heart at the centre of it all, the reason they were all here in the first place. ‘ _ She’  _ was also tiny.

Darcy didn’t know what she’d been expecting, something bigger maybe.  _ Fancier _ . A giant pulsing machine with runes and swirls. Instead it was a just a plain blue box in the centre of a big metal circle, a pretty glowing box sure, but a box nevertheless. 

“Have you modified the voltage cables?” Loki’s voice cut into her thoughts, so smooth and pleasant it shocked her. As if he hadn’t just bitten her head off for trying to make small talk seconds before, “the adapter won’t work at full capacity unless-”

“Unless we use the silver wiring, yes, we’re in the process of manufacturing it now.” Erik agreed eagerly, “I’ll show you.”

Darcy dialled them down to half of her attention, stomach twisting as she purposely tried to ignore the change in him. The way he’d broken the charm back out in force for anyone but her.

Biting her tongue she turned towards the cube instead. Maybe she’d been unfair in her original assessment, it might have been small but it was still beautiful in its own way. It’s pale glow mimicked the hottest part of a flame, or the heart of a star maybe. Not that she knew what that looked like, of course. 

There was something almost hypnotic about it as she looked deeper and deeper still, a wash of colour that made her feel like she might tip right over into it, like the sea.

Something in her chest clenched as she watched the subtle change of lights. It whispered like a warning over her skin, setting the hairs on the back of her neck on end. Something was wrong, something…

“Erik,” she called, taking a step back, “not to get superstitious on you or anything but I don’t think it’s a good idea to do this today.”

“What are you talking about, Darcy?” 

She shook her head, she couldn’t fully explain it. She only knew that her heart was suddenly lodged in her throat, and that she couldn’t get the contrast of Loki’s voice out of mind. The terse snap in the hallway and the friendly silk of the lab, the difference between his relaxed shoulders and wire-tense spine. The sharp edge in his gaze she hadn’t seen for weeks.

“I think we shouldn't be here,” she pulled her gaze away from the cube at last, looking around wildly, “Loki, we should go.”

He was in front of them, right at the edge of the divide. Something unfamiliar in his eyes.

Something that scared her.

“I don’t think so, Miss Lewis,” he said with a sweetness that sliced at her like a razor blade in an apple, “not when we’re finally so close. There’s so much we can finally understand now, may I Doctor Selvig?”

He gestured towards the cube, not waiting for Erik to respond before prowling towards it.

“I don’t know…” Erik said, the words barely audible to Darcy through the alarm bells going off in her head.

Loki lifted the cube easily from it’s cradle, the lights dimming above them as he weighed it in his hand.

“Such trouble over such a little thing,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke, “don’t you think?”

—-

Loki could feel it pulsing against his skin, a power unlike anything he’d felt before waiting at his fingertips. It felt  _ alive, _ eager for action as he held it out like an offering to her.

Darcy watched him warily, fear and something he almost mistook for  _ hurt  _ in her eyes. Perhaps she had forgotten who she was dealing with too, the monster all too easy to ignore in the insular little world of the compound.

Not any more. Not ever again.

To accept the truth of himself was freedom. He had worn the lies against his flesh like a hair shirt for too long, irritating over his nerves until he’d snapped at her when she spoke to him, unable to keep his mind fully focused with her smiling so easily at his sides

That was passed. Now she would recognise the truth too.

“I think you should put that down now,” she said, her jaw set firm even as her hands trembled. So brave in the face of him even now.

“I can’t do that,” he murmured, his magic rising like thorns beneath his skin. A thousand little wounds that bled ice as he advanced on her. He needed her close for this, the Tesseract singing sweetly into his ear what had to be done. The power was almost overwhelming after going so long without it. 

Somewhere in the distance an alarm was going off, the sounds of weapons being drawn loud against it. A reminder that they were not alone in the room, no matter how much it might feel like they were.

_ “Drop the - down - away from-” _

A half dozen agents shouted at him in an overlap of commands he ignored, only pausing when an arrow smacked into the concrete at his feet, sticking up like a beacon. 

“Put it down,” the Barton boy said, appearing in his line of sight. No more than a fly buzzing for attention, “or the next one won’t be a warning shot.”

“I wonder,” he said, fingers clenching tighter around the Tesseract, “which of you thinks themselves strong enough to take it?”

Surging forward he threw himself into action, cold fire tearing from his fingers in a wave of primal magic. This was fury. This was  _ destruction _ . He loosed it freely, walls of ice lining his path and freezing anyone foolish enough to move against him.

He had become an instrument of raw chaos and part of him  _ revelled  _ in it. In being everything the universe expected him to be, what it had  _ shaped  _ him to be. The pain of it almost sweet now, a vicious price he would willingly pay in the moment if it meant meeting his own ends. 

Then she was in front of him.

He faltered for a single, endless heart beat as her expression tattooed itself into his mind. Her eyes wide with a horror so deep it stole the air from his lungs.

“Sleep,” he commanded her sharply, the spell grating against his skin. He tried to blunt its jagged edges, feeling it bleed within him as he released it.

She was helpless to do anything but oblige. He was there before she could fall, swinging her up into his arms as she crumpled, the memory of her fear sticking hot and sharp in the back of his throat. 

Closing his eyes he focused his energy, opening himself up to the power of the Tesseract. The universe moved around them, shifting and bending in a rush of freezing air as he stole her from their world. 

The first phase of his plan was complete.


	10. Reaction

Jane had had a bad feeling all day. 

It weighed on her stomach as she scrambled about trying to fix a bridge that didn’t seem to want to work no matter what she did to it. 

All of her efforts took twice as long without Darcy there to help her. 

Jane hadn’t realised how much work the intern actually did until she was gone. Her notes were a mess, her equipment never where she needed it when she needed it. All the things she never had to think about were suddenly piling up around her.

And… and she was  _ lonely _ too.

Sure, she’d been consumed by her work most of the time even when Darcy was there but she was still… well…  _ there.  _ Jane missed the tinny sound of music played too loudly in someone else’s headphones and the endless off-beat chatter.

Jane missed  _ her. _

The gnawing sensation that something was wrong grew every day, two weeks so far and counting. Too weeks of absolute radio silence. 

Wherever it was Shield had sent Darcy she wasn’t allowed outside contact, stuck out there somewhere with  _ him. _

_ Loki. _

The man who’d tried to kill Thor, who would have killed them all if they’d gotten in his way. She told Darcy there had to be a reason for their connection, that he couldn’t be all bad if he was bonded to her, but inside Jane wasn’t so sure. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the mark and visit and  _ everything  _ might be some elaborate plan he’d concocted for nefarious purposes. 

Some sort of Asgardian ‘magic’ trick that made it seem like they were connected when really Loki was just using her.

The thought had so consumed her that when the phone call eventually came she wasn’t even surprised. In fact if anything she felt a sick sense of _relief_, the knowledge that her growing horror was right snatching away the worst of her uncertainty even as despair hollowed out her gut. 

Something had gone wrong. 

_ Terribly _ wrong.

Her hands were shaking as Erik explained it, her chest tight with panic as the story unfolded. Loki had turned on them. He’d attacked Shield, almost killing Agent Barton and four others, raining chaos on the compound before he stole the Tesseract and disappeared.

And  _ Darcy _ … he’d stolen her too. Snatched her out from under them, her fate unknown. 

Jane felt sick. Her stomach twisting and turning as she assured Erik she’d be on the next flight out, babbling mindlessly about creating a tracking device using what they knew of the Tesseracts unique gamma radiation output. 

It already felt useless.

They didn’t even know if they were on the same  _ planet _ anymore. What hope did they have against a god? What hope did  _ anyone _ ?

Anyone but...

Jane dropped her phone, running from the house as the thought stuck. A desperate, aching  _ hope _ she couldn’t escape from as she crossed the dirt road out into the desert. She didn’t stop until the lab had faded into the distance, heart beating furiously as she struggled for breath.

Bracing her hands against her thighs, she turned her face skyward. Her lungs burning as she stared desperately up into the clear blue above her.

“Heimdall?” She shouted, not caring how stupid she looked as she called out to invisible eyes, “I don’t know if… if you can hear me, or if you even know who I am but  _ please…  _ we need help. We need  _ Thor _ .”

She stood there for a full half hour waiting for a reply that never came. 

—-

The madness and adrenaline waned quickly. Rushing out as fast as it had come and leaving numbness in its wake. A hollow sort of emptiness that consumed him as he paced the worn stone floor.

The castle at Blackglass had been the obvious choice.

It had been a solitary retreat to him over the centuries, a place entirely his own far from Asgard’s watchful gaze. Somewhere he could go to think. To  _ be.  _

Most of the castle was in ruins. Another reason, alongside its location, why it had been so thoroughly abandoned over the millennia. This particular section of the building was sound though and, over time, he had made these few rooms at least his sanctuary. A place that had always been entirely his alone, until now at least.

He had laid Darcy on the divan in his study, stoking the fire to a roar to banish the cold that seeped in through the stones. Through  _ him. _

The infection had spread, it had taken his left arm completely now. Stretching from his scarified shoulder all the way down to his black-clawed hand. Mottling his chest in a patchwork of blue spatters, a stark reminder of what he truly was.

He had hoped to travel from here to the Orchard as soon as possible but he knew that plan had already been foiled, he would have to wait and regain his strength first. The magic had taken too much out of him to risk using the Tesseract again so soon.

It was lucky that he had enchanted the castle in his better days, shielding it from Heimdall’s eyes, otherwise the effort might well have been too much for him in the shredded remains of his mortal form. 

He covered the change as best he could, donning leather gloves and a high necked shirt to appease his own vanity as his blood settled. Returning to check on her as soon as he was dressed, the imprint of her horror burnt against the backs of his eyelids.

Pallor clung to her skin, a snow white statue curled on her side in the cushions. Chestnut hair spilled over her face in a mess of curls, tangling in her spectacles. He removed them as carefully as he could, setting them on the side table and brushing back her hair before he realised what he was doing and pulled swiftly away. 

It felt like an invasion to look at her like this, to  _ touch _ her, something distasteful about it even as his eyes returned again and again to her form. Despite his moral issues with it he was quite sure it was the last time he would be able look at her without her cowering in fear or spitting in his face.

Was it weakness that some small part of him hoped she’d understand? That she would see the situation through his eyes, as she had that day in the desert when she had offered him benediction for his sins?

This was  _ necessary _ , he saw that now more than ever, he had to cast aside his curse before it ate away at him entirely. He would be condemned to live in the skin of a monster otherwise, this was his only chance at redemption. At being made whole again.

He didn’t have time to finish the thought, starting back as he realised dazed blue eyes were looking back into his own. She had awoken.

“Loki?” She asked, voice thick with misuse, “what… what happened?”

All his clever words failed him, trapped behind his teeth as he watched her rise. Looking around the room with a confused frown until slowly, like ice melting, realisation washed over her face.

“No,” she whispered, eyes jerking back to him as she struggled up from the divan. “ _ No.  _ What did you do Loki?  _ What did you do?” _

She swayed on her feet, stumbling away from him as he reached automatically to steady her. Her flinch cut through him more effectively than any blade could.

“What had to be done,” he replied, finding his voice at last. Back straightening as he tried to will her into understanding with his eyes alone, “it was necessary.”

“ _ Necessary?”  _ She repeated in disbelief, scrabbling for her glasses, the lenses magnifying already widened eyes, “you… you… you  _ froze  _ those people. We knew them and you… you could’ve killed them. Oh my god, did you kill them?  _ Did you? _ ”

“Their fate is of no concern to me.” He replied sharply, turning his face away from the pain in her eyes. That same deep-cutting horror that stalked him even now, “if you are worried about the Barton boy or your  _ dear _ Doctor Selvig I assure you the force I used was quite reasonable. There is a very good chance there were no fatalities. You may return to them when all this is done.”

“But why… why even take me to begin with?” The words were so naive they almost broke him, frustration rising hot and hard in his chest, “You got what you wanted with the Tesseract.”

How could she not see it? So confused, so  _ unsure,  _ even now. Like she didn’t know what she’d done to him. How she’d changed  _ everything. _

“Because you are a  _ weakness _ ,” the words tore out of him in a growl, far harsher than he intended as he advanced on her, “this connection between us, this  _ bond,  _ it would make you a target to my enemies. I cannot allow that.”

The thought burned him, the image of Shield or Odin or Thanos trying to wield her against him.  _ Hurting  _ her to punish him. It awoke something raw and desperate inside of him, a feeling of fear and fury he had no comparison for.

One Darcy Lewis seemed entirely untouched by.

“You  _ so _ don’t get to decide that, dude.” She said, arms folding across her chest as her frown became a scowl. 

Foolish child, she had no idea the danger she would be in. She was not an Aesir, a warrior or enchantress. She would break like glass in the wrong hands, and he wouldn’t be able to fix her.

“I would see you protected before I release you,” he said, bridling at her ignorance.

“ _ Release me?”  _ She repeated, mouth falling open at the words, “what am I some kind of wounded animal you need to tag before putting back into the wild? This is… this is  _ bullshit.  _ And to think I was actually starting to…”

She cut the words off with a sharp snap of her teeth, turning away from him to pace the edge of room. He followed on instinct, the sentence dangling in his mind like a hook whose bait was too juicy to ignore. No matter how much it would hurt in the end to bite it.

“To what?” He found himself cornering her when she turned. To close. Far too close. The scent of vanilla overwhelming his senses as he pressed her for an answer. 

“None of your business,” she spat, glaring up at him, “And I don’t know what whacko ‘fifty shades of being a  _ fucking idiot’ _ you’ve been reading in your down time, but kidnapping a girl is  _ not  _ the way to make her like you!”

He was breathing hard, his traitorous blood rising even now at how near she was. He could feel the warmth of her, the  _ spark,  _ veins thrumming with it as she glowered.

“It is fortunate then that I do not need you to  _ like  _ me,” he dropped his voice, keeping the words to a murmur as he drank her in despite himself, “I only need to keep you safe until this is over. I assure you, once my plans have come to fruition we never have to meet again.”

He had lost the right to her affection, her  _ devotion _ , but he could still have this at least. The passion she wore like silk against her skin. A burning flame that warmed him even as it burnt. 

“Until  _ what _ is over? What  _ plans?”  _ Her brow creased, the tip of her tongue snaking out to wet the ripe curve of her lip.

It was too much, his heart beating loudly in his chest as the madness scratched desperately at his skin, begging for release again. He forced himself to move instead, to turn away from her before the beast slipped its leash entirely.

“It is not your concern.” He said to the air as he walked away, pulling discreetly at the hem of his gloves to make sure every inch of his affliction was still covered. His vanity wearing at him even now.

“Oh I disagree,” she threw herself in front of him so suddenly he almost stumbled, her hands firm against his chest as she shoved him backwards, “I disagree  _ a lot.  _ You dragged me into this, so it’s now  _ totally _ my concern.”

Every place their bodies met came alive, the intensity of it shocking him as she pushed him back. He held his tongue, teeth clenched tight against her demand. He wouldn’t move,  _ couldn’t,  _ for fear of saying or doing something that couldn’t be taken back. He would be a statue instead.

“You have no idea what it’s like do you?” She hissed. So perfectly fierce and brave. This breakable creature with the fire of the sun in her chest and fury in her eyes. “To not be… to not be  _ you.” _

“It would seem unlikely,” he sneered, his heart beating far too fast. A violent burst of feeling completely at odds with his outward control, “since I am  _ me _ .”

“Well I‘m not! This isn’t some cosmic power play to me Loki, this is  _ my life.  _ It may not be a particularly big or important life but it’s  _ mine.  _ I wasn’t born with a title or a kingdom or magic fucking powers, I  _ worked.  _ I worked damn hard to get where I am and you… you’re just toying with me!”

The words stabbed into him, each desperate syllable slicing right through his armour and into the stinging flesh beneath. It was a reminder of everything he himself had lost; his title, his kingdom, his powers. A reminder that he had never deserved them in the first place. But more than that it awoke something in him, a feeling that curdled like spoilt milk in his guts.

Almost like  _ guilt _ .

“You admit yourself your life had no importance,” he said, letting cruelty sharpen his stuttering tongue as she drew her hands away at last. The warmth lingering against his skin for far longer than it should have, “and yet you would have me apologise for disrupting it? For  _ saving  _ it? You are nothing but a  _ child _ sulking.”

She was silent for a long moment, the air so heavy he felt as if he could drown in it. Panic laced tight between his ribs at her still expression, her eyes flicking back and forth over his face like she’d never seen him before.

“Jesus,” she whispered with such feeling it almost undid him, “what _happened_ to you? What made you this _cruel_?”

The words stole his breath from him, punching through his ribs and ripping out what was left of his self control. 

What had  _ made  _ him like this, indeed.

It was madness itself. Sick and futile and burning within him with every breath. The urge to tell her was overwhelming, to earn all her hatred now in one fell swoop. Surely it was better than to keep living these half lies forever? He should welcome her disgust, encourage it, take every inch of her anger if only so that he might quash the foolish notion he could ever have more than it.

She wanted to know?  _ Fine _ . He would show her  _ cruelty _ . 

—-

She couldn’t understand him no matter how hard she tried. 

The confusion she’d felt waking up had turned quickly to fear, to rage and… and  _ disappointment _ . God she was  _ so _ disappointed. She’d really thought that things could have been different, that maybe  _ he _ could have been different, seeing glimmers of a different man in him as the days had passed.

Someone not altogether good but not altogether bad either, charming and sharp and  _ teasing,  _ someone she could like. Someone she could…

But she was wrong. It had all been an act to get the Tesseract, taking her along as a fucking pawn. He didn’t care about her. He didn’t care about anyone but himself. She was just an inconvenience, an inane creature served up to him by fate.

“Very well,” he said at last, his voice dangerously still as he looked down at her with mercurial eyes, “I shall show you.”

She suddenly understood why poisonous animals were always so beautiful.

He moved with an exaggerated slowness, utterly refined even now as he pulled at the fingers of his gloves. He hadn’t been wearing them before, obviously changing into fresh space prince wear whilst she slept. 

“You were incorrect when you said that I don’t know how to be anyone but me, you see - I don’t truly even know how to be that.” His voice was perfectly even, each sentence punctuated by a tug at his glove. She couldn’t keep from gasping with they came loose at last, “You are shocked, my lady, but no more than I was when I discovered the truth of my existence I assure you.”

His hands… she couldn’t quite make sense of what she was seeing. One was the perfect porcelain she remembered and the other was definitely  _ not.  _ His elegant bone structure was dyed a deep blue, ridged and scarred and tipped with nails like black claws. 

His fingers flexed as he pulled up his sleeve to reveal the rest of his arm was just the same.

“I was not born of Asgard as your precious Thor was, you see.” He said, seeming to take a perverse sort of pleasure in the words as she stood silently and watched, “I was taken, stolen as a babe from the frozen waste of Jotunheim. You accuse me of toying with you but you know nothing of what you speak. I was a  _ pawn _ . A plaything. They took a beast and raised it to believe itself a man, but we cannot change our true natures I realised that when my heritage was revealed to me. The great lie of my life laid bare by the touch of my enemy. My  _ kinsman _ .” He laughed almost bitterly as he looked down at the unfamiliar skin, “At first I thought it a curse but no - no there is no magic that can save me from what I am, or the things I have done.”

Of all the things she’d been expecting him to say this wasn’t it. This wasn’t even _close_. She’d been expecting some megalomaniac rant about divine princely rights and superiority, ready to smack him back down any way she could.

Instead he’d shaken her to her core.

Her chest was too tight, each breath a struggle as she realised how deep that wound must go. And how recent it was too. Fresh and bleeding even now. She couldn’t imagine it, discovering not just that you weren’t who you thought you were, but you weren’t even the same  _ species.  _ That you were your enemy _ .  _

It must have shattered him, driven him to… to...

She swallowed around a dry throat, meeting his gaze as she made herself ask, “what  _ ‘things’ _ have you done?”

_ “Terrible _ things.” His eyes were the green of glass bottles, bright and broken and so sharp she could barely look at them, “I let the Jotunns in to slaughter our guards on the day of Thor’s coronation, and to be slaughtered in return. I took the crown from my brother and would have slain him too when he came after it. I grasped for power with both hands and attacked anyone who tried to stop me. I gave into madness like it was the dearest embrace.”

She could feel her pulse hammering against her tongue, frozen to the spot as he took a step towards her, then another.

“Have you ever tasted madness, sweetness?” He asked, voice low and all too intimate as he towered over her, “it makes a man capable of destruction he had never imagined. I tricked my birth father, King Laufey himself, into Asgard and killed him before Odin’s eyes in a shallow play at  _ redemption _ . To prove my worth to a man who had never valued me as more than a piece in his great game. And yet the urge remained, driving me to the Bifröst in an attempt to cut the blight of Jotunheim from the realms for good; to stop the wars from ever starting again. Why, I would have wiped out every member of my own race if I could have that day, scrubbed the universe clean of it’s nightmare.  _ My  _ nightmare _ . _ ” He was breathing hard, each exhale warm against her temple as he stood close enough to share oxygen, “Do you see now, Darcy Lewis? What made me this way is simple, I am a monster and it is my  _ nature _ to be monstrous.”

Silence reigned, so thick she could have choked on it as the words played out in front of her. A world of blood and madness unlike anything she’d ever imagined. Heartache and  _ destruction. _

“You’re right,” she heard herself whisper, the only sound apart from the crackle of the fire and the huff of his breath, “you are a monster.”

His face froze as she looked up at him, her heart beating like a rabbit in a trap. His mouth opened to say something but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

“Not because of that though,” she pointed to the unfamiliar skin of his arm with a shaking hand, “it’s got nothing to do with your genetics or your… your  _ nature  _ as a Jotunn or whatever you are. If you’re a monster Loki, it’s because you choose to act like one. What you went through… I’m sorry, I really am. I can’t even begin to imagine it. But what you do now is on  _ you.  _ Attacking Shield is on you. Hurting Clint and Erik and the rest is on you. You have a choice, you  _ always _ have a choice.”

She remembered Clint and his story about his own soulmate. The enemy agent who had blood on her hands, who’d killed and killed until she made another choice. She had wanted out, wanted to be better.

Loki… Loki seemed content to stew in his own misery. To keep lying and clawing and _hurting_ just to get his own way.

“You think it so simple, do you?” He sneered, a flicker of panic edging the hard stare of his eyes, “you think if I fell on bended knee and cried for my sins I would be absolved of them? A tender apology is all it would take to wipe my soul clean and reset everything to how it once was? Tell me, what kind of sweet naivety is this?”

He was frightened. The realisation knocked what was left of her balance from her, her stomach squeezing as she looked up into cold eyes and saw a scared boy staring back. A child so desperately certain he was irredeemable that he would lash out at anyone who tried to show him a different way.

She swallowed, a fresh wave of sadness catching in her chest as she shook her head. She couldn’t redeem him. No one could do that but himself, and it didn’t seem like he wanted to.

“I don’t think that,” she said, rubbing her arms against the chill that seemed to have grown in the air around them, “an apology won’t change the past, nothing could, but it would be a start at a better future. If you want to spend the rest of your life hurting people, hurting  _ yourself _ , that’s your choice, but I don't have to stick around and watch you do it.”

Sucking in a deep breath she turned away, opening one of the many doors and following it out into a hallway in search of an exit. Feeling very small and very out of place in the cavernous stone corridor. 

—

Loki stood frozen, stripped bare and vulnerable in a way he had never been before. 

He had been expecting her horror. A pallid, weeping maiden, her mouth parted on a silent gasp as he heaped his crimes at her feet. His whole body was held tense and ready for it, primed for her disgust. So certain she would revile him that a sick sort of self satisfaction was already waiting beneath his skin.

Instead she had simply  _ looked _ at him.

Still, steady, sharp as a needle even if her throat had worked to swallow as he ladelled out the worst of his offenses. She met his gaze evenly when he was done, acknowledging his crimes before she skinned him alive in a steady voice. 

She’d taken him apart piece by piece, dismantling the broken parts of himself and leaving him to bleed as she turned away from him. Not because of what he was, the sins of his birth inconsequential to her, or even for what he’d done, his madness only deepening her empathy. 

She had left him for the sin of his  _ choices _ . 

He had wanted to push her away, to drive the wedge further between them and break whatever fragile bond fate had seen fit to weave between them. But now he had… he couldn’t stand it.

The hollow ache between his ribs was almost more than he could bear, a desperate emptiness he fancied shared the exact same breadth and width that she did. It weighed him down, his mind unforgivably sluggish and slow as he stared at the place she had been.

She had left.

She had left with no idea what awaited her beyond the castle doors. 

Panic seized him, unforgivably clumsy as he tore from the room after her. Plunging out into the blinding white.

He had chosen this place as his sanctuary for a reason, he was assured his solitude. No one could survive beyond its doors anymore, they would be lost to the mountains. To the hidden cliff edges and jagged rocks below, the cold, the wind, the trick snow and thin-edged frozen lakes. 

It was death itself, and Darcy Lewis had just walked right out into it. 

  
  
  



	11. Cold

If Darcy had known where she was going to end up that morning she would have stayed in bed. Or, at the very least, worn a coat.

It was  _ desolation _ .

There was no other word for it. A bone-numbing monochromatic nightmare of ice and wind. Snow covered the steep ground, rocks jutting out like teeth as the ominous shapes of mountains broke the low cloud around her.

She hadn’t even escaped the shadow of the castle yet and already she was shaking. Struggling to pick her feet up as she searched for a path. A sign.  _ Anything  _ that might lead her to civilisation and salvation. 

The fact was Darcy had no intention of remaining a kidnap victim to a morally flawed demigod, no matter if he was her soul mate or not. If that meant fighting through an arctic winter to the nearest building? So be it. As soon as she found a phone she was so  _ out  _ of there.

She only prayed he hadn’t taken them to Europe or Russia or somewhere - the only other language she spoke was French and even then it didn’t quite cover  _ ‘I’ve been kidnapped by a crazy god and I want to go home. _ ’ 

_ J'ai été… kidnap?  _ Maybe? _ Kidnap par un dieu fou et… et… want to go home! _

Breathing hard against the cold she focused on the thought of  _ home,  _ wrapping it around herself with the stupidly ineffective cardigan she’d chosen that morning. She wasn’t quite sure where home was anymore, the lab in New Mexico, her dorm at Culver, her bedroom in her parent’s house still untouched beneath the piles of unused gym equipment her mom had dumped in there.

It didn’t really matter. Wherever it was it would be warm. And there'd be coffee.  _ Burning  _ hot coffee with so much sugar and cream in it it was practically a dessert. And blankets. God she’d curl up in a mountain of blankets and not come out ‘til summer.

“ _ Stop!”  _ The voice lanced through her like the wind, a startling cry that nearly tripped her. It knocked the creeping apathy that had crept around her bones away and let the cold back in in its wake.

Stumbling she turned to see a tall figure loping through the snow towards her. Her teeth grinding against the instant  _ foolish  _ rush of hope he evoked.

This was not a man who wanted to keep her warm, not without burning her world down in the process. 

She took another step forward, then another, knowing she’d be an idiot to try and outrun him but keeping moving anyway. No matter how much she wanted to stop she knew she couldn’t, she couldn’t give up so easily.

Call it stubbornness or self preservation, she had to at least  _ try  _ to walk out on her own terms.

“ _ Darcy,”  _ a hand closed around her arm, dragging her backwards, “you must stop this.”

“Why?” She spat, her righteous anger somewhat ruined by the chattering of her teeth as she glared up at him. There was snow in his hair, white against the inky blackness.

Like stars.

“It is too dangerous out here, you must return.”

“That’s what I’m doing, _returning_ home to my friends,” she had to shout as the wind became a howl, stabbing into her like a thousand needles, “if you want to help, great, take me back to Shield.”

“I can’t,” his hands were cold against her skin, or maybe her skin was cold against his hands. The numbness crept further and further into her with every moment they wasted talking, sinking so deep she barely noticed the way he dragged her hands up between them. He pulled his gloves on over her shaking fingers, his cloak blocking out the worst of the wind as it was wrapped around her shoulders.

It smelt like him. Woodsmoke and leather and  _ warmth. _

“Can’t or won’t?” She batted him away, using the last of her reserves to glower at him even though she knew she was two seconds away from crumpling like a cheap paper napkin and begging him to take her back to the ruined castle, “either way I’m out of here.”

Yup, it was stubbornness. Not that she was stubborn enough to throw his cloak away though. She wasn’t a complete idiot, only  _ mostly _ an idiot, there was a difference.

“Foolish girl, there isn’t anywhere  _ to _ go,” he protested, striding after her as she forced her feet to move again. Certain now she’d lose a toe or two in the process but sucking it up anyway. Who really  _ needed  _ all ten toes? “Not for miles.”

“Then I’ll walk for miles.”

Anything to prove that she was more than a liability, a victim. A… a  _ weakness.  _ That she could choose her own fate still, unwilling to be steamrolled by his plans when she had so many of her own.

“Down a mountain?” He asked, keeping pace all too easily. Apparently untouched by the ball-breaking freeze.

“I’ll climb.”

“ _ Darcy,”  _ He pushed his way in front of her, arms held wide to bar her progress even as his voice softened, “would you really go so far just to get away from me?”

The words hit deep and hard, the desperate plea in them worming between her ribs and clenching tight around her heart. Tears pricked behind her eyes, freezing to her lashes as she glared at him.

“_No_,” she tried to shout, voice snatched away by the wind as she jabbed him hard in the chest with numb fingers in too-long leather gloves. “You do _not_ get to do that. You kidnapped me_, _remember? Don’t you dare act _hurt_ about it now!”

“Darcy,  _ please- _ ”

Whatever he was about to say was lost to the rush in her ears, the sudden move costing her her footing. Her balance failed her, feet slipping on the icy snow as her arms flailed wildly, looking down she saw with absolute clarity what she had failed to notice before.

The ground was a lie, the smooth unbroken tract of snow an illusion made by perspective and her own lack of attention. In reality she’d walked herself right to the edge of a ravine.

And now she was going to fall into it.

_ Perfect,  _ she thought numbly. This was how she’d die. Cold and scared in the middle of nowhere, fighting with the man who was supposed to make it all better.

Life sure was such a bitch sometimes.

—

Darcy Lewis was stubbornness incarnate. 

The panic that controlled Loki’s limbs merged and twisted with a singular frustration only she could evoke as he ran from the castle after her. The woman was mad.

And in danger.

Biting his teeth together, Loki fought the urge to sling her over his shoulder and drag her back by force when she snapped at him. He knew she wouldn’t thank him for it but it was better than the alternative.

He had not brought her here to die.

The image of her lost to a snowdrift or the sharp rocks below chilled him more than the weather ever could. It sank into him, freezing the Jotunn skin that even the wind couldn’t touch. 

His mortal side was less immune to the elements than he anticipated, the icy burn as novel as it was unwelcome. The dissonance in his own skin curled inside of him as he chased after her, the stubborn wench turning from him again and again. A snarl on her chattering teeth.

Then his nightmare became real, unfolding in front of him in an endless frozen moment as she lost her footing. His heart hit the top of his rib cage like a fist as he hurled himself forward to grab her. He locked his arms around her waist, twisting them backwards as he hauled her away from the edge and into the snow.

_ Thud. _

He landed hard, the noise jarring him as the snow gave way beneath them. Something jagged and uneven broke his fall, his arms held tight about her as he bore the brunt of it.

It was only when he was sure that they were safe that he released her, struggling to sit only to fall back again. The movement jarred his right side, waking a deep  throb that ran from the base of his skull to the bottom of his ribs_. _ It wasn’t pain so much as awareness, sticky hot and burning cold and aching all at once as he lay back and watched the world spin above him. 

“Wha-  _ Loki?”  _ Darcy’s face appeared above him, pale as the clouds around her as she hovered over him, “Jeez, are - are you okay?”

Her eyes were true blue, wide in her face as she peered down at him with something he thought might be worry. He hoped it was. Wished it was even. In that moment he wanted more than anything for her to worry about him. To _care_. The foolish thought aching more than his body ever could. 

He must have landed on a patch of quick-snow, he thought distractedly as he watched her eyelashes flutter and blink, the thin layer of powdered white snow crumbling beneath them and casting him down against the sharp rocks beneath. 

He must have hit his head. His shoulder. His  _ mortal _ shoulder.

Of course.

“I told you,” he murmured as her hands danced over him, her brow neatly creased in the middle, “it was… dangerous.”

“This is so not the time for ‘I told you so’s,” the words curled out between full lips like smoke, temporarily stunning him as she pressed her fingers against his arm, his neck, “oh my god you’re bleeding - you’re  _ totally  _ bleeding. Can’t you like, magically heal it?”

“Not currently,” he tried to brush her away but he didn’t have the strength, heaving for breath he fought back the dizziness. He had to get up. He had to get them back to the castle. 

“Hey, let me help,” she wedged herself against his undamaged side before he could protest, her closeness a fresh sort of torture as she helped him to sit up at last.

The damage was worse than he anticipated, the throbbing in the base of his skull shooting down his spine. A deep grinding burn beneath his shoulder blade shooting through him when he tried to move and spattering his vision with white spots.

“If this is some sick kinda ploy I will kill you in your sleep,” Darcy murmured under her breath, panic lacing her voice as she struggled to keep them both upright, “c‘mon we gotta get you back inside, help a girl out here wouldcha?”

“Please forgive my temporary incoordination,” the world was still spinning, his head unaccountably woozy as he leant far more than he would like to admit on his unwilling cane, “I appear to be slightly injured.”

—-

_ Slightly injured. _

She could have killed him then and there for the understatement alone. He had a shard of rock buried so deep in his shoulder she was amazed it wasn’t poking out the other side.

Her first thought had been to yank it out and hurl it as far away from him as she could but some vestigial memory of all the Diagnosis Murder reruns she’d watched during summer vacay had stopped her. The absurd mantra of ‘ _ what would Dick Van Dyke do’  _ echoing over and over in her head as she tried to haul him back up the mountain, one edge of the cloak he’d draped her in bundled up in her hand and shoved against the wound in the hopes of stopping the bleeding without making everything a thousand times worse.

The fact they made it back to the castle at all was nothing short of a miracle. Sweat congealed against her spine as he leant heavily against her, seventeen feet of irate, injured demigod bent over her as she tried her best to keep everyone stable and moving. 

Seventeen feet of irate, injured demigod that had just  _ totally _ saved her life.

Her heart thundered in her chest, a hard pulse of feeling that made the fear in her gut even worse as they stumbled into the entry hall. He was even paler than before, a glassy look in his eyes that she didn’t know was from the blood loss or concussion. 

Or both.

“Yo! Servants! Anyone there?” She shouted desperately, the flagstones slick with ice beneath her feet where he must have left the door open in his wake. Darcy kicked it shut as best she could.

“There is… no one… here…” Loki mumbled, his teeth clenched tight as she tried not to jostle him too badly. 

“Fantastic,” she grumbled, trying to cover up the raw terror pumping in her veins with snark as she pulled him in the direction she vaguely remembered the study being. “Only you would have a castle with no servants in it. Worst Prince ever.”

He didn’t reply and the fear doubled. 

Her legs were shaking, her insides a mess of hot and cold and terror as she prayed to god’s she didn’t believe in that he’d be okay, willing to give just about anything to hear him bitch at her again. She needed another sarcastic comment or eye roll, something to prove he would be okay and this wasn’t going to take yet another dark turn.

He was not a good guy, she knew that like she knew the sky was blue, he was flawed and broken and batshit insane. But, no matter what he’d done, she desperately didn’t want him to die. 

The light beneath the door ahead drew her like a moth, trying not to sob with gratitude as she pulled him into the study at last. His footsteps were clumsy and uneven, wrecking her nerves completely.

“Okay, trouble,” her voice was too soft even to her own ears, trembling as she slowly lowered him down towards the sofa she’d woken up on not so very long ago. She made sure to lay him sideways, recovery position style, so she could still have access to his back and shoulder, “down you go.”

His face was stark white, lips bloodless and parted on a ragged gasp. His eyes tightly closed.

“Loki,” she tried again, slapping gently at his face and wincing as she caught sight of the wound again. It was still oozing red even now, a faint trail of it splattering the floor in their wake like the grimmest version of Hansel and Gretel in the world, “I need you to stay awake okay? Please? Where’s your first aid kit?”

Jesus, did Asgardians even  _ have  _ first aid kits? Her heart was beating so fast it felt ready to burst as she hovered over him, rebundling the cloak he’d given her and packing it against the wound. Hoping to keep it from worsening until she could actively try to fix it.

She  _ really _ needed to fix it.

“There… supplies in the… washroom…” Loki murmured, a hand gesturing sloppily towards one of the doors before his arm dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“Okay,” she murmured, brushing his hair back from his face, “okay. Loki, I’m gonna need you to stay awake for awhile longer, you got that? Don’t you dare pass out on me you absolute  _ bastard _ .  _ Please.” _

“You say… the sweetest… things,” he mumbled, the weak sarcasm warming her just enough she could get her legs moving again. 

She shed her clothing as she ran, losing the gloves and cardigan to the floor. She was still soaked through, the snow turning to ice water against her skin and leaving her sweating and shaking all at once. 

It could wait though. First she needed to patch up Loki,  _ then _ she could worry about hypothermia.

The door he’d pointed too opened up on a bathroom like something out of Barbie’s Medieval Dream Castle. A wide stone room with actual hot springs and a wall of shelves filled with potions and primping agents that Darcy would have had a field day mocking him over, well at any other time at least.

As it was she barely felt like she had enough time to  _ breathe.  _ She rushed towards the shelves, dumping out a wide bowl of potpourri and filling it with steaming water before ferrying it along with an arm load of super fluffy towels to the study. 

Then she returned, thinking perhaps it would be better to have everything she needed on hand then to keep rushing in and out. She’d never been called to do this kind of thing before but it seemed sensible, even if she felt anything but. 

She was officially freaking the fuck out.

Damnit. She needed antiseptic and bandages and there was no convenient green plastic box with a little white cross on it anywhere. 

She raided the shelves, heart beating faster and faster with every second that passed, a hummingbird in her chest as she scrabbled for help. The labels were unreadable at first, sharp runes shifting before her eyes into English in a way that would have been awesome if she had time to think about it. As it was she was too busy knocking them aside like an angry cat in her search. Hair care. Hair care. Skin care. _Bingo._

The basket sat on one of the lowest shelves, a thick layer of dust over it. A reminder that he probably never really needed this stuff. She wasn’t sure entirely why he did now, unless Jotunn’s healed differently to Asgardians? Whatever the reason she could’ve kissed him for having it, pawing through bandages and scissors and glass bottles with labels like  _ antiseptic wash  _ and  _ healing salve.  _

She took it and ran. 

“You still awake there, buddy?” She asked as she stashed the basket beside her. Grabbing the scissors and cutting away his tunic as gently as she could. She needed to get a better look at the wound, get a clear run at it. 

He mumbled something incomprehensible, turning his head into the cushion.

“Not an answer,” she nudged him with her elbow as she worked. Pulling the blood soaked fabric away and trying not to faint at the mottled wreck it revealed.

Bruises stretched from his neck to his tailbone, already so dark they blended in with the strange blue patches coating the left side of his body. The wound itself was on the right, big and ugly. The rock was still in there, the shard three fingers wide at its base and slick with blood.

She’d have to pull it out. The idea squirming in her belly even as she forced herself to accept it. There was no other option, especially since he’d been injured in the first place by saving her life. 

“You’re gonna like this next part even less than I do,” she said to him, soaking a cloth in the steaming water in readiness, “and I’m sorry about that, but it has to be done. Just… just please try not to die on me okay?”

Swallowing her own fear she set to work, it was going to be a long night.   
  
  
  



	12. After Shocks

The palace at Asgard had no fewer than nine throne rooms. One, it was said, for every realm they held dominion over. 

The largest of them of course was representative of Asgard itself. It was a grand golden spectacle of a chamber, large enough to fit half the kingdom with its sides open to the majesty of the landscape beyond. It was where kings were made and alliances solidified.

Odin had not returned to it since Thor’s failed coronation. 

Instead he found himself once more in the upper realms of the palace. This chamber was the smallest of the nine throne rooms, shadowed and cool. It’s walls were engraved with mountains, dark metal and darker wood carving jagged lines outwards to the single open wall. Beyond it lay the snow capped peaks of the mountains beyond the city, so high everything else was lost below.

“I find you here often these days, husband,” familiar footsteps crossed the room towards him, “does it help you think?”

“Perhaps,” he looked back as Frigga approached. She brought with her the scent of wildflowers, so rich and bright he had always been half convinced they would bloom behind her as she walked.

“I’ve always liked this chamber,” she sighed, stopping beside him and laying her hand on his arm, “The Winter Throne Room… it seems particularly fitting now.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” He left his gaze to the horizon, tracking the peaks in the distance as if the answers to all of his great questions might be found there.

“I mean I miss him too.”

Odin stiffened, turning away from her completely. There were some places he could not go, some words he could not speak. Not even to her.

He had made himself stone, calcifying himself in his responsibility until no touch could reach him or plea soften him. No matter how much he wished it could.

_ Nine  _ realms. 

Nine worlds that needed protecting,  _ saving,  _ his own kingdom chief amongst them. He had had to become more than himself to bear it, more than just a husband or father, his own wants buried beneath the need to do the best for the most of his subjects. The trillions of lives across the galaxy that looked to Asgard for guardianship. 

“Excuse me your majesties.”

Odin turned, straightening himself as Heimdall bowed into the room. Something must have been dearly wrong for the watchman to leave his post.

“What is it Heimdall?”

“There is trouble on Midgard,” he said, ever respectful as he folded his hands before him, “they ask the skies for Thor’s assistance.”

“Trouble?” Odin repeated, his stomach sinking with each step he took from the open wall. A familiar burn of anger. Of disappointment and  _ shame _ .

He had no doubt of its source, and yet still he hoped to be mistaken.

“Tell us,” Frigga’s face had paled, her hands clenched at her sides even as she stood tall, “What has happened they would call upon Thor?”

“ _ Loki _ ,” Odin bowed his head as Heimdall said it, the name was inevitable but no less painful because of it, “it seems he has stolen something important from the Midgardians he had sworn to help, causing chaos in his wake. It is said he took one of their own hostage in the process.”

”Hostage?” Frigga swept towards the gatekeeper, her brow creased as she searched his face, “that is not like him, not at all. Kidnapping has never been Loki’s way.”

Odin stepped forward at last, striking Gungnir against the ground and bringing them both to silence. 

“It has been some time since we could claim to know him or his ways,” he rumbled, shoulders steady even as his heart sank, “if we ever truly did. The fact remains, Loki was banished here a mortal and commits a mortal’s crime, it is for them to punish him for it.”

The weight of his words swung inside of him, sharp edged and slicing as he thought again how ridiculous his hopes had been. To think he believed his youngest son might have been tempered as Thor had been, to learn responsibility and appreciation of those beyond his own self. Those beneath his abilities.

He was a foolish old man, too caught up in memories to see the truth. Loki was no longer the child who had eagerly held his hand and listened to his wisdom. 

Too much had passed since then.

“If he returns to Asgard then we may act upon his crimes, but until then the Midgardians must stand alone,” Odin dismissed them, turning away to pace back to the open wall and the lonely view beyond. The conversation ended, “he is no longer of Asgard”

“ _ Husband _ ,” Frigga’s voice cracked like a whip as she came after him, her gentle flowers growing thorns as she reopened the conversation with a vengeance, “how can you speak of our son so? You may be the Allfather but you are  _ Loki’s  _ father first.”

“He-“

“I don’t care,” she stamped her foot, fearless in the face of him. Heimdall forgotten as she forced him to hear her piece, “Loki is in pain, pain  _ we  _ caused him. Do you wonder why he lashes out? Why he seeks power,  _ security?  _ He is  _ hardly _ the first man in this family to seek war.”

The look she gave him scored him down to his soul, chastising him in the way only she could. 

Odin inhaled deeply, feeling every one of his years as her words echoed inside of him. He had foregone her council for so long when it came to their sons, so sure her motherly love hindered a right and fair judgement. Perhaps he was blind in more than just one eye.

“Send Thor when he returns,” he said at last, turning to gesture Heimdall away as the weight of the ages dragged at him and tiredness crept back into his bones, “and let that he the end of it.”

“For now.” Frigga promised, turning away to escort Heimdall out and leaving a heavy silence in her wake. One that Odin had not the strength to break, even if he wished too. 

The lethargy that weighed at him grew stronger by the day, throwing everything into doubt. He wanted his kingdom at peace, the realms in balance and Asgard strong at the centre of it all.  _ Protected.  _ He wanted his sons content and at home, ready to carry his legacy onward so he might rest at last.

And the fact that they weren’t… well, who had he to blame for it but himself? 

—-

Loki felt like he was swimming up from the bottom of a great black lake. Weeds snatched at his legs, the water thick as molasses around him as he struggled upwards.

He had to surface. He had to  _ breathe.  _ His lungs grew tighter and tighter in his chest, pallid swelling things that threatened to burst with every second he delayed. His throat filled with syrup as he kicked towards the ever elusive light, the glow distant and tinting red the longer he looked at it.

_ Blood _ .

Copper in his mouth, his airway, viscous red and choking. He would die here.  _ Drown _ here. Crushed beneath the weight of his sins. The blood he had spilt. It was too much. Too much.  _ Too _ ...

Loki awoke with a gasp, coughing as he came back to reality with a harsh jolt. A deep, aching pain awoke with him, smothering him like a second skin as he struggled to sit.

The Tesseract. The castle. The  _ ice. _

It came back to him in a dizzying rush of memories, the contrast of Darcy’s hair against the cold white snow. Her pink nose and bloodless lips. A small, shaking figure beneath his cloak, one who would rather freeze that return to safety with him.

She had stumbled too close to the cliffs edge, her existence flickering like a candle in a breeze. So fragile. So  _ unbearably  _ fragile.

Where was she now? Gods,  _ where? _

Surely she hadn’t left again? 

Panic shifted him upright proper, fingers clenched white against the blanket he had been covered in as he scanned the study of signs of her. 

There was a circle of chairs and side tables about the fire, each bearing an item of her clothing like a flag. Her dress, her cardigan, her leggings and socks and… well, other things of a more intimate nature he quickly cast his gaze from. 

Relief burst sweet against his tongue, adrenaline waning as he let himself breathe again. It was proof at least she hadn’t gone far, that she was still here. Still  _ safe _ .

There were other signs too, the mess of healing supplies she’d left on the sideboard beside him. Bandages and bottles and potions, not to mention the clean clothing she had piled neatly at his side.  _ His  _ clothing it seemed, taken from the dresser in the bedroom perhaps.

How strange to think of her moving about his sanctuary. Even now she was probably asleep in his bed, lost in furs and throws with silk against  her bare skin, warming his sheets with the scent of her .

He forced his gaze away, a tenseness that had nothing to do with his injuries clenching in his gut as he looked back to the fire instead. She’d left a pile of blankets there, discarded on the rug. He puzzled over them for a long moment, eyebrows knitting together as he tried to work out their purpose. 

Then they moved. 

His heart caught sharply in his chest as a pale foot poked from beneath its edge, toes curling against the rug before it disappeared again. A subdued little  groan huffing from it’s depths as she rolled over.

The realisation she’d stayed with him shocked him more than he thought, certain she would have wished to be as far from him as possible. And who could blame her after what he had revealed to her? What he had  _ done _ ?

Instead it seemed she had curled up right there in front of him and had fallen asleep.

“SNHGH  _ LOKI _ !” Her shout filled the air, his shoulder almost tearing open anew as he startled back. She shot up from her cocoon, her hair snarled in front of her eyes as she looked wildly around the room. “Oh thank  _ God _ , I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I thought you might have croaked on me.”

Her shoulders slumped, her whole body relaxing as she reached for her glasses and slipped them on. Settling back into her nest with a sigh.

“You’re still here,” he had meant to thank her, really he had, but the words changed without permission before they left his tongue. 

He realised belatedly how vulnerable he was beneath her tired eyes. His shirt was missing, his boots too. The thought of her seeing him like this, half dressed and half beast, unsettled him. He would not have anyone exposed to his ugliness, especially not her.

“Jeez don’t sound so happy about it,” she snarked, stretching her arms above her head with a feline yawn. The blanket covering her slipped, revealing one of the many shirts he’d left in the castle hanging from her shoulders, “you’re _totally_ welcome by the way, it was noooo problem patching up your injuries.”

“If you hadn’t run off like a  fool I wouldn’t have been injured in the first place,” he said to the wall, undoing a millennia’s worth of reputation as  _ silvertongue  _ in one fell swoop as he snatched the shirt she had left for him off the side table.

“You  _ kidnapped  _ me!” She protested, brow creasing in the middle as she rose angrily to her feet, “Which you are so undoing by the way. Come on then, boots on, let’s go.”

The blanket slipped away entirely, his shirt brushing her naked thighs like a promise as she kicked her covers back and turned to snatch her clothing from the fireside. 

“I… I can’t do that,” he said, forcing himself to think through the desire that roared through him at the sight of her. It threatened to break him even now, his injury wounding more than his flesh it seemed, but his very self control too.

Hauling himself to his feet, he struggled to pull his shirt on. It was far harder hard work than he would admit too, his body more bruise than bone now as he forced himself through the motions.

Wincing he turned away, plucking a vial of  _ Smertestillende  _ from the basket and swallowing it’s sour comfort. It was only after it’s heavy warmth settled like a barrier beneath his skin that he allowed himself to look at her again 

“Sure you can,” she said, tugging her leggings on beneath her stolen shirt, her hair still falling in glorious disarray around the smooth column of her throat, “you got us here didn’t you? Bring back the super cube and let’s bounce.”

“It doesn’t work that way.” His thoughts were lost to him as he watched her dress, everything else forgotten to the hypnotic sway of her hips as she reached to brush her hands through her hair.

“Work  _ what _ way?” She turned back to last, her gaze flickering dismissively over him as she bit out the words, “just magic heal yourself and lets get out of here already.”

The pain crested, hot and hard and having nothing to do with his shoulder whatsoever. His mouth moving without his consent as he growled, “ _ I don’t have the power too.” _

The room fell silent, the admission stolen from his lungs by a desperation he had no name for. 

“But- but you-” she gestured helplessly to him, lips working silently for a second, “you froze those people, you brought us here, you controlled a giant robot  _ from space!” _

“That was  _ before _ ,” his voice lowered to a bitter hush as the truth broke free at last, “before I was banished from my home and stripped of my abilities. All I have now is the violence of frost magic and a Tesseract I am not yet strong enough to wield again. You should have left me in the snow for all the good I am to you.”

The silence only seemed to grow, turning leaden as she looked up at him with eyes like the ocean. Deep and dangerous and just as likely to drown him.

“Do you really think I could have done that?” 

He couldn’t look at her. Not now. Not with old wounds opening in his chest and base, hopeless desires threatening to steal the last of his fractured sanity.

“You said it yourself.” He said to the space above her shoulder, his whole body tensed as if he might try to flee at any moment, “I am a monster.”

—-

She’d been through so many emotions in the last twenty four hours she thought she would have used them all up by now. 

Fear, rage, desperation…  _ cold.  _

Cold was an emotion, she didn’t care what anyone else said. It had worked its way into her bones the night before. She’d done what she could for Loki, the action keeping the feeling at bay. But then it was done. Loki was stable and all that was left was the sick, shivering hollow that only seemed to grow beneath her skin. 

She’d raided the few rooms she had easy access too, unwilling to go any further incase he took a turn for the worse. She got lucky, there was a bed chamber beside the washroom piled high with blankets and furs just waiting to be stolen. Not to mention the closet full of fancy viking clothes she could steal from.

Even if all of them had been designed for someone twelve feet taller and decidedly  _ not  _ as curvy.

Then there was the tiredness, that was  _ another _ overlooked emotion. It stole in on the edge of the cold, a draining, dragging thing that felled her on the edge of the rug. She was as close to the fire as she dared get, half the blankets surrendered to Loki as she wrapped herself in the rest to watch him sleep. She kept her eyes fixed on the smooth expanse of his stomach as he breathed. In and out. In and out. A rhythmic dance that had eventually lulled her to sleep after God knew how many hours had passed.

Now she was wide awake again and drowning in feelings.

What was  _ wrong _ with his family? Who banished their children every time they disagreed? Okay, so maybe they did more than disagree. War and attempted genocide were pretty big deals after all, but still - everything she’d read about Odin didn’t exactly paint him as a benevolent peace keeper. If Thor and Loki had both learned to hate the same realm and crave the same war it must have been for a reason.

The same reason perhaps Loki’s trust was so broken. Chewed up and spat out to the level that he truly thought she could have left him there to die. It hurt more than she wanted to admit. 

“I said you  _ were  _ a monster,” she replied as the silence drew tight around her. Chewing at her lip as she looked up at him from across a room that felt like it was shrinking by the second, “what you choose to be next is up to you. For the record though, I… I don’t think a monster would have risked themselves to save my life.”

“It was selfish,” he said to the floor, shoulders slumping just a fraction, “everything I do is entirely selfish.”

“That wasn’t selfish,” she took a hesitant step forward, then another. Her heart beating a strange staccato rhythm between her ribs as she stopped just in front of him, “it was kind _ , _ Loki. It doesn’t change the bad things you've done, but then the bad things can't change the good either. And that was  _ good.  _ I’m  grateful to you.”

He looked up at her then and she forgot how to breathe. Even bruised and broken he was still far too much to bear, a war-damaged god with the weight of the ages in his eyes. It silenced her, ribs shrinking around her lungs.

He was too contradictory, kind and cruel in the same breath, selfish and caring.  _ Dangerous. _

She’d said it herself, one deed didn’t outweigh the other, her own life wasn’t worth more than her friends. She couldn’t let herself forget it. No matter how tired or cold or anything else she was. That was why she had to go.

Her feet were heavy as she lifted them, forcing herself to turn away from him at last. 

“Where are you going?” He asked, echoing her footsteps like there was a string tied between them she couldn’t see.

“Nowhere apparently,” she said, trying to shrug her shoulders like nothing was wrong. Like her whole world hadn’t shifted on its axis and she still didn’t know if it was for better or worse, “but now I know you’re not on deaths door anymore I need to clean up and get some proper rest. I… I’ll see you later I guess.”

“Darcy-” he caught her wrist, the gentle touch stopping her more effectively than a blow. She hated how warm his hand felt against her skin, radiating through her like a flame as he crowded in close behind her, “ _ Wait.” _

“Why are you doing this, Loki?” She didn’t want to say the words but she couldn’t stop herself. Her head was too full, too  _ confused.  _ His hardships and misdeeds blurring under the weight of his touch, “you don’t want  _ this.  _ You’d rather chew broken glass than be bound to a lowly mortal like me.”

“And yet bound I am,” his breath was hot against her ear, setting her heart racing with every ragged exhale, “I cannot seem to escape you, Darcy Lewis”

She shuddered, feeling her knees weaken at the hush of his voice. The sensation pooled low and warm in her belly, a simmering heat that chased away the cold still lingering beneath her skin.

“Maybe you should try harder,” she whispered, hating the hitch in her voice as she fought the urge to lean back against him. His hair was soft against her cheek, his head bowed so close she could feel his lips against her skin when he spoke again.

“Maybe I should stop trying at all,” he pulled her wrist up gently, dragging back her sleeve to trace the mark beneath. It was almost entirely gold now in the low light of the room.

She pulled away, the effort costing her more than she’d ever admit. Even to herself.

“Good night Loki.”


	13. Realisations

Loki was sat upon a throne of gold in the finest chamber in the palace, surrounded by gilt and marble. All the trappings of his station and he saw none of it.

His gaze was fixed halfway across the universe as magic surged strong and sweet in his veins, the scorching metal of the Destroyer weighing like armour against his skin. He wore it close to him, twisting it’s sentience to his desires as he made it move.

Made it _ hunt._

If Thor returned everything would crumble. Everything Loki had done, everything he had suffered, would mean _ nothing. _Less than nothing. He would have lost himself entirely to the shadows and served no one but failure in the process.

It was better to finish it now, quick and clean, and save the realms from further chaos. He would keep the universe balanced beneath his own rule, prove himself worthy of his crown and rewrite the truth as he saw fit.

He could purge himself of his monstrous blood and no one would be any the wiser of it.

But _only_ if Thor fell now.

Dust rose with each step the Destroyer took, smoke filling the air as he marched through the abandoned little town. He could feel the heat scorching him as he commanded the Destroyer to charge it’s weapon, the growing surge of power echoing up through his own ribs.

He needed to see this done with his own eyes, he owed his once-brother the honour of that at least. A good death. A clean one.

Thor was not alone though, Sif and the warriors three had gathered around him, so ready to defy their true king, even if it meant meeting their end. How could he have ever been foolish enough to believe they were his friends too? 

He gritted his teeth, it mattered not. Let them have their noble death if that was what they wanted, the mortals that had gathered at their side too. The waifish woman who clung to Thor like a vine, and the old man standing behind them. The bespectacled woman beside them too with the dark hair and fierce blue eyes.

Collateral damage was inevitable, if they wished to throw their lot in with Thor it was not his concern. 

Sighing to himself, he felt the power crest, the weapon charged and ready and burning in his chest like a flame. He inhaled once, deep and true, tattooing the memory into his cells, and then he unleashed it.

Everything was fire and rage, an inferno of heat that wiped his vision completely. When the smoke had cleared all that was left was ash and bone and memories.

Thor was dead. Sif and Fandral and Volstagg and Hogan were dead. The waifish woman and the old man were dead. The bespectacled girl with the fierce eyes was dead.

He had _won_.

—-

Loki woke up gasping, the dream clinging to his skin like sweat. Sourness coated his tongue, a backwash of bile that had him gagging as he struggled to sit.

His shoulder screamed in protest, pain throbbing through him as he fought against the too-soft cushions of the divan and the tangle of blankets that seemed determined to keep him trapped to it. He welcomed the pain.

The pain was real. _ This _was real.

Darcy wasn’t dead, he hadn’t killed her or Thor or any of the others that day. 

_ Not for lack of trying, _ the dark part of his brain whispered, _ you would have crushed her without a second thought. _

His stomach twisted, body aching as he forced himself to his feet. The room was dark, the enchanted fire burning low in the grate as he turned from it, pacing towards the window instead as if he could outrun the thought.

He hadn’t killed her. He _ hadn’t_. She was alive, even now she rested not seven feet away from him in his bedchamber. 

_ ‘You don’t want this.’ _

Her words echoed in his skull, a sore tooth he couldn’t help but prod at no matter how much it hurt him. Working and working at it until it felt like something would come loose.

_ ‘You don’t want -me-’_

That’s what she really meant, and she had been right. He hadn’t wanted her. He hadn’t even _noticed_ her before those inevitable words passed between them. She was temporary. A lightning strike in an endless storm. Why would be want to be tied too - what had she called herself? _A_ _lowly mortal _like her_._

He was a prince. A king. A god and a monster. How could he bear such a thing?

How could he _ not_?

Darcy had been wrong, he _ wanted _ her. And she had turned away from him. The rejection cut him to the quick, no matter how certain he was he deserved it, a familiar self loathing creeping in. Cold shock and anger and _ pain_. 

He had always expected his soulmate’s boundless devotion without reason, wanting her affection without giving anything in return. He had constructed some paper doll fantasy in his mind, an utterly two dimensional creature whose affection would be easy and loyalty entirely unearned. 

He was the worst sort of idiot.

Who could want mindless indulgence when reality was so glorious?

Darcy was difficult, strong willed, stubborn, and fiercely passionate. She challenged and enthralled him in equal measures, making it plainly clear that if he wanted her affection he would have to earn it.

He would have to earn _ her_. Her trust, her laughter, the snap of her eyes and the taste of her skin.

Her heart.

At his current rate of healing he estimated he would have a week before he could call on the Tesseract again and finish his mission. Seven days to convince her that fate had plans for them yet.

—-

Darcy had done the right thing.

There was literally a thousand reasons why walking away from him was the only sensible option, ones that didn’t care how beautiful or broken or _ intense _ he was. She couldn’t give into him, not like that at least. It didn’t matter that her stupid hormones were begging her to rush out there and bang the bad guy out of him even now, she couldn’t do it.

Real life didn’t work that way.

There was no fairytale spell she could break by kissing him, no magic or misunderstood enchantment. She couldn’t redeem him. No one could.

No one but himself anyway.

Until he pulled himself together and figured it out she’d just have to deal. 

Starting right now. 

Sucking in a deep breath Darcy opened the door to her borrowed bedroom, shoulders back as she entered the weird study slash living room the castle seemed focused around. He was already waiting, because of course he was, sitting quietly on the sofa with a book open in his lap.

“Hey,” she cleared her throat, hoping enough time had passed that the awkwardness between them might have faded. Simmering down to a background radiation that would take years to kill them rather than minutes, “how’s your shoulder?”

“It has eased some, thank you,” he carefully marked his page before closing the book. His long fingers once more hidden behind leather gloves, she wondered how he didn’t overheat in them, “did you sleep well?”

“Uh yeah, yeah I did - thanks.” 

The awkwardness definitely hadn’t simmered. They were reaching critical reactor levels and she didn’t know which rod to douse to fix it.

“I took the liberty of preparing some breakfast whilst you slept,” he said, gesturing casually to where a tray had been left on the coffee table as he stood, “please help yourself.”

With that he vanished into the bedroom she’d just left, returning a moment later with a neat stack of fresh clothes and shutting himself in the washroom.

Her insides rioted, the relief she felt at being alone again directly contradicted by the tension that came with knowing Loki was ten feet away probably getting incredibly naked and soapy. Luckily her stomach came to her rescue, rumbling with a sound that hadn’t been heard since the wildebeest stampede killed Mufasa. 

Focusing her attention on the tray, she dropped down on the rug before the low table, yanking off the fancy silver domes like they’d insulted her mama.

_Damn_. Whatever his faults, Loki sure knew how to put on a spread. 

There were thick crusty slices of bread, lightly toasted and still warm to the touch, meats and cheeses and fresh fruit - some she recognised, some she didn’t. Not to mention the glasses of water and juice, and an ornate mug of something that smelt suspiciously like coffee_. _

She took a cautious sip.

It _ was _coffee.

The dam broke and she fell on the tray like a starving woman, which, hey, she kinda was. She had no idea how long it had been since she’d last eaten, breakfast back in the Shield facility maybe? Had it been a day ago? Two? Everything was a mess of confusion and unconsciousness and _ feelings._

She didn’t even taste half of it, certain it was probably delicious but unable to pause once she’d started. Chugging back the coffee between overstuffed mouthfuls to keep from choking. She could have kept going until she’d eaten the plates and napkins too if the crash hadn’t happened.

The sound echoed from the washroom, a familiar shout of pain following it as she shot to her feet without thinking. Already barging the door open as her breakfast threatened to repeat on her.

“_Loki_?” She yelped, “what is it? What‘s wrong?”

He was bleeding again, red soaking through the bandage she’d patched around his shoulder. The bruises had spread, darkening into a blackish purple mass that covered most of his right side, only fading where it met the curving wave of blue skin.

“Shit,” she swore, pulling at his arm, “you must have pulled the stitches - kneel down would you, let me look.”

“There is no need,” he hissed through his teeth, “You can go.”

“Like hell I can,” she tugged at his arm again, feeling a strange warmth sparking beneath her fingertips and realising with a distant sort of understanding it was his mark. All shiny and gold against her skin.

She’d never touched it before.

“I can manage.” He pulled away from her. She watched the muscles of his back tense, heard the catch of his breath as the red spilt faster.

Stupid, stubborn man. His pride would get him killed.

“_Please,” _she caught his wrist, “let me help.”

He was still for a long minute, she could feel his arm shaking beneath her hand. Holding himself so tightly she thought he might snap.

“The salve is on the counter,” he said at last, face turned away from her as he spoke, “the rest of it too.”

“Thank you,” she turned away quickly, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart as she looked for the basket. Filling a bowl with steaming water from the faucet for good measure before returning to him with her goods.

He had found a chair, his back to her, shoulders slumped as she spread out her tools. 

She doubted she’d ever fully get used to the sight of him like this. Not the bruises or the blue or even the awkwardly sewn line of stitches she’d left that was sure to scar wonky. Just… _ him. _Even battered and bruised he still managed to be the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, an absolute contradiction of complete control and raw feeling. 

“Yaknow, I still don’t know where we are exactly,” She said to her hands as she worked, trying to distract herself from the fact she was pawing at a half-naked Loki. _Again_. The last time he’d been unconscious and she’d been on the constant edge of a panic attack. This was a very different situation, “is this like Europe or something?” 

“Not exactly,” he kept his face averted as she assessed the damage. Relieved when the blood flow stopped that it wasn’t as bad as it looked, “we are in the northern most region of Vanaheim.”

“And that’s _ not _ in Europe?” She couldn’t figure out where else would have a big ass castle on a completely ridiculous mountain. 

Brow creasing she carefully dressed the wound with sweet smelling salve, thanking whichever god was looking after her that she wouldn’t need to stitch him back up. That had been bad enough the first time.

She’d failed Home Ec for a reason, and flesh was _so_ much harder to sew than fabric. 

“Vanaheim is one of the nine realms,” he said, interrupting her thoughts entirely, “This castle was part of my mothe- part of Queen Frigga’s dowry when she wed Odin of Asgard. But the master of Blackglass Castle has been but a title for many thousands of years, not since the passes crumbled and the place fell to ruin.”

“I’m sorry, go back,” her hands were somehow still working, carefully rebandaging his shoulder even as her brain spiralled out on her completely, “_one _ of the nine realms? A… a not-Earth-realm? You’re saying we’re in _ space _ right now?”

He looked around then, eyes bright bottle green and way too close. “Did I not mention that?”

“No. No you did _ not _mention that.” She glared at him even as her heart started having a full blown seizure, “like… this is another planet? I’m _on_ another planet?”

“I take it you haven’t travelled between the realms before?” His eyebrow hitched, the bastard looking almost like his old smug self again for a moment.

“What gave it away?” She snarked, slapping the dressing in place just a little harder than necessary. He winced and she felt just a tiny burst of vindication, “now if you’ll excuse me I need to go and have a small _mental breakdown_.” 

Her head was spinning as she turned away, rushing worse even than that time she’d gotten drunk at the county fair and rode the teacups. 

_Space_.

He’d taken them to _ space. _Even if she did get down the mountain a fat lot of good it would do her. She was in an alien castle on an alien planet with, _ technically speaking, _an actual honest to god alien prince. 

Wait…

WAIT.

_Did this count as an alien abduction? _

“Darcy,” her name stopped her in her tracks, softer than she expected as a hand caught her wrist. Loki had followed her, releasing his hold on her almost immediately as she glanced back.

“Yeah?” She asked, craning her neck to look at him as her brain spiralled. This totally counted as an alien abduction_. _ She’d been abducted by an alien. It was dictionary definition stuff.

All those times she’d laughed at the guy on Ancient Aliens and now _this. _

“I… thank you. For your assistance,” he bowed his head, hands held awkwardly behind his back, “I am… grateful to you.”

“Oh,” she whispered, everything else vanishing at the sincerity in his voice. His eyes were solemn as they met hers, and unbearably unsure, “you’re welcome, Loki.”

Her heart beat was deafening in the sudden silence, thundering in her chest as they looked at each other for far too long. He was still too close, and _way_ too half naked.

His eyes brushed over her like a physical caress, landing heavily on her lips. She swallowed automatically, electricity crackling up and down her spine like lightning at his weighted gaze.

Her face flushed, breath catching as she felt herself tipping on the edge of something she couldn’t come back from. Something she couldn’t let herself fall into, no matter how much it called to her.

“I - I’ll leave you to it then.” She squeaked, marching herself away as quickly as she could before she did anything stupid.

Like kiss the alien who’d just abducted her.  



	14. Fresh Starts

It wasn’t working.

Shield had drafted in some of the greatest scientific minds in the world and it _ still _ wasn’t enough. 

Midnight had long since come and gone, and most of the staff with it. Doctor Banner had left just after eleven, obviously jet lagged from his flight and uncomfortable at the cramped conditions. Erik had fallen asleep not long after, his legs dangling off the edge of the little sofa in the corner of the room. Jane had covered him with her coat the last time she’d gotten up to get caffeine.

It was just her now. 

Logically she knew the others were doing their best but it wasn’t enough for her. They didn’t get it, it was _ academic _ to them. 

It was _ Darcy _to her. 

Living, breathing, caring, annoying, wonderful Darcy, and every hour that passed was one more she could be in danger. One more she could be lost somewhere, hurt and alone with an attempted murderer. 

No matter what marks Darcy wore, Jane knew it wasn’t enough. Darcy was in trouble and Jane would be damned if she’d just sit back and wait for someone else to fix it. So she did the only thing she could, she hunkered herself down and refused to move until she’d found a way to find her.

She had been drawing and redrawing the circuit plans for hours, needing to boost the tracker’s range but not knowing how as her fingers cramped and her eyes blurred. If she could just calibrate the satellite arrays to better detect gamma radiation… if… if she… the...

Thunder shook the lab, sending Jane bolting upright in her seat. She hadn’t realised she had been falling asleep until suddenly she was wide awake again, lightning bursting into the room like a flashbulb. Erik groaned from the sofa, flinging an arm over his eyes with a nonsensical murmur in another language.

Hope gripped her, setting her teeth on edge even as she tried to fight it down. In the three days since she’d been at the Shield science facility they’d had three storms, and none so far had brought her anything but rain.

The thunder came again, loud and sudden with the lashing of the wind against the window pane.

“_Damn it._”

She jerked up from her chair, joints protesting at the sudden movement. Snatching up her coat from Erik’s mostly unconscious form she ran for the door. If there was a chance it was him she had to take it, she had to see for herself.

Her feet slipped and slid as she ran out of the building, mud churning up in her wake as she headed into the storm. Her heart was lodged in her throat, threatening to choke her as she searched the night horizon with every flash of lightning.

Nothing. Two three _ flash. _Nothing. Two three…

_ There. _

A figure emerged from the storm, electricity crackling from his broad shoulders as he strode through the rain towards her, a familiar hammer weighing heavy in his hand.

“_Thor-” _

She didn’t care about the dirt splattering her jeans or the rain plastering her hair to her head, or the fact she hadn’t slept, ate or showered in at least seventy two hours. None of it mattered. He had come. He was _ here. _He was… 

He was not alone.

Jane faltered, catching herself on the edge of falling as she skidded to a halt. There was a woman holding onto Thor’s arm; ageless and ethereal and entirely untouched by the elements. She seemed to almost float above the mud, her amber gown pristine even as it whispered across the ground. 

“Jane -” his voice was achingly familiar, her heart beating hard enough to bruise as she looked between them. Logic dictated it shouldn’t matter who he was with, he was here to help save Darcy after all - nothing else - but logic failed her this time. 

It had _ months. _ Months of wondering. Months of _ hoping. _And now… now he was here with someone else.

“I- I didn’t think- it's good you’re here,” she said awkwardly, hands flexing at her sides as she struggled to figure out what to do with them. The urge to throw herself at him had frittered away, leaving her washed out and hollow as she looked between them, “thank you for coming.” 

“Of course,” he said, perfectly somber. His eyes pale blue and so intense she felt her stomach twist and flop at the sight of them. She couldn’t look away, no matter how much she wanted too. No matter how much it hurt, “I will always come for you.”

“I…” she trailed off, unsure what to say. Her mind and heart at war with each other as the silence held and the rain pounded on outside of the bubble they’d found themselves in. 

It was almost more than she could bear.

“Son, will you not introduce me?” The woman on Thor’s arm spoke. 

_ Son. _

_ SON. _

Jane felt her breath catch, chest squeezing so tight she almost choked as she looked between them again. Seeing the similarities now as hope made her dizzy, a selfish joy washing through her that shamed her as much as it thrilled her.

“Of course, forgive me mother,” Thor drew back a fraction, presenting the woman with a formal bow, “Lady Jane Foster, may I present to you my mother, Frigga Odinswife, Queen of Asgard.” 

Oh _ shit_. 

She’d never even met her last boyfriend’s parents, and they hadn’t been actual _ royalty. _Thor smiled at her from behind his mother's shoulder, something so touchingly unsure in his gaze that she felt her heart stumble all over again.

There was no way she could throw herself at him now, no matter how much she wanted too. No matter that the strength in his arms was calling out to her, something that went far beyond the physical. A warm sort of security she ached for even now, the knowledge that he would always do whatever he had to to make things right.

To make _this_ right.

“Y-you’re majesty,” her tongue felt heavy in her mouth as she made herself respond at last, head reeling as she threw herself into the world’s most awkward curtsey on instinct. That’s what you did when you met a Queen wasn’t it? 

“There is no need for such formalities, child,” the Queen stepped forward, releasing her son and taking Jane’s hands in her own as the thunder rumbled on in the distance, “you shall call me Frigga and I shall call you Jane, alright?”

Her hands were warm against Jane’s soaked skin, making her even more conscious of her bedraggled state as Frigga smiled at her like a small sun.

“Yes you’re maj- uh… _ Frigga. _Of course.”

“Good,” the older woman beamed at her, squeezing her hands tightly before releasing her, “let us go inside, then you can tell us exactly what has happened here and how we can help fix it.” 

“Oh-okay,” she nodded, heading back to the lab in a daze. 

Jane didn’t even know herself how they could help, only that she really needed them too. She had pushed science to its limits, what she needed now was magic. 

—-

It was hardly the start that Loki intended.

He had planned a very different morning to that that he found himself in, one where they would both have time to settle themselves before he began his campaign to win her trust in earnest.

First she would be rested, fed and relaxed, and he would make the best of his current state of appearance, presenting himself to his best advantage to her. It was more than vanity though, it was a _ necessity_. He was beast caught between two broken forms and he couldn’t bring himself to expose her to his ugliness again.

And yet that was exactly what he’d done. _ Again. _He’d torn the blasted wound open trying to put his own shirt on and ruined his plans entirely. Even the sensation of her hands soothing his damaged skin couldn’t wash away the shame that echoed in his gut, his horror that she had had to touch him at all when he looked like _ that _.

It was unbearable.

The ghost of her lingered, careful and steady beside him as he dressed himself with exaggerated care. The look in her eyes when he’d thanked her rising to the surface of his mind, a balm against the self loathing.

For one long endless heart beat he’d thought perhaps… 

But no. That was too dangerous a path to walk down, not when cold logic knew it was pity in her eyes and not desire. If he wanted to seduce her he would have to rely on his wits and charm alone, to make her forget his affliction until he had time to remedy it. 

Inhaling deeply he fought to settle his mind, calming the storm inside of himself as he covered every inch of the creeping Jötunn plague beneath clothes and gloves.

Once more himself again, he left the washroom.

Darcy wasn’t in the study. 

His eyes scanned the room with lightning precision, forcing back the knee-jerk rush of panic that came with her absence. Her dress was still hanging in front of the fire, the breakfast tray was missing and the door that led to the kitchen was ajar. 

She hadn’t run. 

The relief was palpable, a mercy he didn’t deserve after the shambles of the morning so far. He could not blame her for wanting to be as far away from him as she could get. That was why he was so surprised when she appeared suddenly in the open door, her eyes widening as they met his. 

“I uh… found the kitchen,” she said, adjusting her spectacles with an awkward smile, “weird layout for a castle.”

She was wearing his clothing again, his _ colours. _The green seemed to glow against her skin, making the colour of her hair richer than ever and her eyes so blue it almost hurt to look at them. He found himself straightening up on instinct, fighting to appear casual even as a possessive heat simmered low in his belly. 

“Not all of the ruins were salvageable,” he offered as nonchalantly as he could, surreptitiously checking his sleeves were still sitting properly as he strolled across the room, “besides I didn’t think it necessary to renovate all that I could of, I hardly needed the space after all. At its height this castle had well over a hundred rooms.”

He was a meteor gravitating towards her, wondering if he’d get the chance to reach her before he burnt up entirely. 

“You did all this yourself?” She ran her hand lightly over the back of the divan, eyes sparking with interest as she matched him step for step, “pretty impressive.”

“Perhaps you’d care for a tour?” He asked as if the thought had just occurred to him, as if he hadn’t been planning it for hours and she had just given him the perfect in, “The rest of the castle is not nearly so well restored as these rooms, but even in ruins it has a beauty of its own.” 

She considered him closely, a serious weight in her gaze that seemed to go far beyond the question he’d asked. His ribs tightened despite himself, breath catching as the moment held and he was struck by the sudden certainty she could see right through him. That she’d turn from him again, reject him completely as he deserved.

“Okay,” the word caught him off guard, as did the smile that quirked her mouth as she nodded her head brightly, “It’s not like I have anything else to do today. Besides, it’s not every day a girl gets to explore a space castle.”

He would show her every castle in the realms if he could. Lay the grandest of palaces at her feet just to make her smile like that. For _ him._

He shared exactly none of his thoughts aloud, instead sweeping his best cloak from the stand by the fireplace and holding it out to her.

“Take this, there are no fires beyond these chambers and the elements here are rarely kind.” 

“I remember,” she gave an exaggerated shiver, their fingers brushing as she took it from his outstretched hands. It was as if she’d struck a match beneath his skin, warming him with the merest hint of her touch. 

Clearing his throat he fastened a second cloak about himself, securing the clasp firmly before he offered her his arm. Unsure which of them was more surprised when she took it. Perhaps it was the Jotun skin beneath his sleeve, or the absolute improbability of the moment, but her touch had never felt warmer.


	15. Changes

Darcy hadn’t appreciated how big the castle was the last time she’d left the study. She’d been too busy trying to escape on the way out, and then trying to keep Loki from bleeding to death on the way back in again. She hadn’t exactly had time to admire the decor when he was spilling red all over the place.

Now she had time to look at it properly she found herself struggling to believe just how much she’d missed.

The castle was _huge. _It stretched up around them, a maze of empty rooms and staircases, some missing windows and walls and entire chunks of ceiling that let in the elements. Tapestries still hung from cold metal railings, faded almost colourless, fixtures and fittings and remnants of furniture scattering the chambers around them.

A ghost of what it might once have been and yet somehow still unbelievably beautiful.

“The ruins are just as dangerous as the mountains beyond.” Loki said as he led her through the huge stone atrium, his arm steady beneath her hand as she tried to take it all in, “I would strongly caution you not to go beyond the main rooms without a guide, although of course I would be happy to show you anything in the castle you wish.”

“Except the west wing.” Darcy replied without thinking as she swept her gaze across the sweeping staircase and the looming statues that bracketed it. There were two huge griffins carved in black marble veined with silver, each so perfectly realised she wondered if they were based on real creatures and not just mythology.

Another wonder of space.

“The west wing?” Loki repeated, confusion creasing his brow as she turned back to look at him, “I don’t understand why we shouldn’t visit it. In comparison to some of the estate it is quite well maintained.” 

“Oh,” Darcy felt the blush rising in her face as she realised what she said, cheeks hot against the cold chill in the air as they started up the staircase, “like.. from Beauty and the Beast? The Disney version, y’know? The beast is showing Belle around and he’s all like _‘You can go anywhere in the castle except the west wing_?’”

She finished the sentence in a low growl, nose scrunching in her best imitation of the cartoon.

“It was not in the version I’ve read,” Loki said, unbearably elegant as he flicked a brow up at her.

Of course it wasn’t. He was a Norse God, a millennia-old rather than a millennial, and she _ really _had to stop forgetting it. 

“So you’re more old school then,” she said aloud, holding firm to his arm as he helped her over the broken top step. She was doing her best to appear more cultured then she was, “‘_Welcome beauty have no fear-’” _

_ “You are queen and mistress here.” _He finished for her in a low murmur, her pulse jumping like he’d tased her as they paused at the top of the staircase. Suddenly far too close together in the echoing chamber.

It was time to change the subject. 

_ Quickly. _

She was only human, as had been pointed out way too often over the last few weeks, and as such there were only so many intensely romantic things she could hear Loki say in _ that _accent without completely losing her goddamn mind.

Huffing out a breath she forced her best ‘totally-not-freaking-out’ smile on and turned away from him quickly, “Where to next?”

“This way,” he bowed his head, the picture of gentility as he lead them onward.

Silence reigned, wrapping tighter and tighter around her like a hungry snake as they traipsed through the empty castle. She could hardly concentrate on it anymore, finding her gaze drifting back to him again and again instead.

His profile, his hair, the fact he was wearing those leather gloves again. He’d been wearing them since before they’d left, his shirt high necked and long sleeved. Every trace of blue and bruises hidden beneath his clothing.

Was it wrong that she kind of missed it? The perfect imperfection of his two halves displayed together, a physical representation of the duality of the man beneath.

Not to mention the fact that no matter what colour he was the guy looked damn good shirtless.

Not that she was going to think about him shirtless. Nope. She’d already spent half the morning pawing at his naked flesh after all, all those sinewy muscles tensing beneath her fingertips as she’d rubbed slick salve into his flesh...

_Shit. Nope. _That was a bad train of thought that she was not going to ride, no matter how much her stupid animal brain might want too. Coughing awkwardly she pulled her arm from his at last, turning away on the pretence of looking out of a window and trying to ignore how cold she felt at the loss of him.

“Uh, so…” she said into the ringing silence, trying her best to sound like a normal human being as she made a show of examining the broken stained glass, “where are you hiding your hammer then?”

“_I’m sorry?_” He turned sharply to look at her, an almost comically shocked expression painted on his face.

Ah yes, classic Darcy Lewis. Why settle for just breakfast when you could shove your entire foot in your mouth and call it brunch? 

“No! I didn’t mean - I meant-” _ fuck sake, _ she scolded herself silently snapping her teeth together as embarrassment flooded her, _ pull it together woman. _ “I meant your Mewmew, y’know? The whole ‘he who holds this shall be worthy of the power of…’ well, _ you _ in this case. Is it the Tesseract? Is that why you took it?”

Not the best save of her conversational career but it would have to do. Besides, she really was curious, the thought had been gnawing at her since he’d told her the truth about being banished.

Everything would make just a little more sense if it was the Tesseract, it would explain why he wanted it so much and why he’d be willing to do what he’d done to get it. Although she supposed the fact he hadn’t gotten his powers back yet didn’t make that exactly likely.

_ Duh-doy. _

“It is not my ‘hammer.’” Loki said, little flurries of snow catching at his hair as he paused beside her at the broken window. Looking out as if he’d never seen snow before. 

“What is then?” She asked, nose scrunching in confusion as she followed him as he walked away again. Trailing after him on instinct in the almost supernatural hush.

“Nothing.” He hitched his shoulder elegantly and gestured them down the left fork of the corridor ahead, “There is no magic object to restore me to my former life.”

“_What?” _ Her mouth fell open, heart squeezing almost painfully at the calm resignation in his voice. There was a subtle edge to it, a _ sadness _ that punched her straight in the gut as she stumbled to a halt. _ “_How… how do you know when you can go back then?”

He paused, turning back to her with a solemn gaze, “I don’t think that was ever an option.”

“But… but that’s not _ fair. _Thor got a chance, why don’t you?”

Thor had tried to start a war, Loki had tried to finish one. Sure he’d gone about it in a much twistier and admittedly more successful way but damnit there were mitigating circumstances around the whole thing.

“Because I am not supposed to return,” he shrugged again but she could still see the weight of it hanging off him, a bitter kind of disappointment that clung to him like a shadow, “My fa- _Odin _has decreed that I am to be banished until such time, if ever, that I am worthy to return. But you see that is the irony of it, I will never be worthy in his eye. There is no test to fail, for I have already failed it.”

“Woah,” she murmured, words momentarily failing her as she looked up into distant green eyes and felt her heart break just a little bit, _ “fuck that guy.” _

“_Excuse me_?” His mouth fell open at her outburst, eyes widening as she squared up to him. Her chest was burning with second hand fury, suddenly unbearably hot with it despite the cold wind blowing in from the half-felled wall ahead of them. 

“You heard me,” she stuck her chin in the air, latching onto the righteous indignation with both hands and pulling, “fuck him. I can’t believe he won’t give you a second chance despite the fact he’s partially to blame for your psycho melt down. What a colossal _dick_.” 

She couldn’t believe the nerve of the guy, to create so much chaos and then disown the results of it completely. Fucking up his sons and then banishing them to the winds when they acted on it. It was _ ridiculous. _

Loki stared at her silently, she didn’t think people shocked him all that often but the guy was definitely shocked right then. An air of uncertainty clinging to him as he looked at her in abject disbelief.

“Knowing all that you do of me you still think I deserve a second chance?” He asked, snow catching in the folds of his cloak. She reached up a hand to brush it loose without thinking.

“Of course,” it was her turn to shrug, biting at her lip as she lined up her next sentence. Trying to think of the least awkward way she could phrase it. “but don’t you think… don’t you think maybe it’s time you stopped trying to live up to his expectations anyway? He’s clearly not worth it.”

“What do you mean?” He laid his hand over hers, catching it as the next gust of wind pulled his cloak around her, sealing them into a silent little bubble she didn’t know how to break.

She didn’t even know if she wanted too.

“Don’t try and be worthy of him, or unworthy even, just... just be worthy of yourself instead.” She said, unable to look away from him as the words tumbled out of her, “you’ve lived like thirty million years-”

“Sixteen hundred years.”

“Sixteen- _ damn _ really? That long? Wait no, that’s a break down for another time,” inhaling sharply she forced her thoughts back on track. Pushing back her hair self consciously with her free hand as the wind caught at it, “you’ve lived sixteen hundred years trying to be the person they want, or the monster you think they expect. Maybe it’s time to stop worrying about that and… and just be _ you _ instead.”

He knocked her hand away gently, tucking her hair behind her ear for her with careful fingers. The butter soft leather of his glove cool against her cheek as he murmured, “I’m not sure I know who that is anymore.”

She could feel her heart beating in her throat, heat flushing through her like someone had set her to simmer.

“If you find out let me know,” she whispered, losing herself in his eyes in the most cliche romance novel way she never imagined really existed. They _pulled_ at her, true green and heavy with centuries of built up feeling, threatening to sweep her away entirely, “I think… I think I’d like to meet him.”

When he moved closer she didn’t stop him, didn’t move away. Not this time. Not when he was looking at her like he could see her, _ really _see her.

Not when he was looking at her like she was the only person in the entire universe he’d ever truly wanted.

She tilted her head up, lips parting on instinct as his breath caressed her oversensitive skin, ragged and warm against the chill winter air. Her eyes fluttered shut, heart surging up within her as he kissed her at last. 


	16. Risk

It was an inevitability. 

As if everything that had ever happened in his life had led him solely to this one moment. Every pain and promise, failure and success, it was all prologue to her kiss.

Heat thundered in his veins as he tasted her at last, coffee and cream and _salvation. _A need that had simmered within him for centuries boiling over at last, a primal desperation for more. For _her._

He dragged her closer, her body pliant in his arms, lips soft, breath warm. A salve and ignition all at once as her hands found purchase in his shirt, her mouth opening in a breathy gasp. He swallowed the sound, greedily pushing deeper. He needed more, more gasps, more sighs. To steal the air from her lungs entirely until she could only breathe _him_. 

He needed her to feel half of the madness that wracked him at her touch.

She drew back from him, holding him at bay with shaking hands as he chased his pleasure on instinct. His forehead pressed to hers as he mouthed at the air between them. 

Her eyes were closed, chest rising and falling in heavy gasps as she stood static in the circle of his arms.

“Okay,” she murmured, her tongue darting out over kiss-swollen lips. Tasting him even now, “okay, _that_ happened.”

“_Darcy...” _he didn’t recognise the sound of his own voice, an animals keening as he fought the urge to drag her back to him. To lose himself in her a little longer.

“I… I need to think about this,” her eyes fluttered open at last, brimming with an emotion he couldn’t name as she drew away from him completely, “okay?”

“Of course,” he lied as the warmth of her touch faded, watching her turn her back on him as she paced away. 

There was nothing to think about, not anymore. They were bonded. Soul to soul. It was far past time they both accepted it, that they _revelled_ in it.

Darcy glanced back at him when he didn’t move to follow, uncertainty heavy in her eyes. Like she could hear his thoughts. Waiting for him to say something, to press her perhaps, or abandon her entirely because she had not given him more. 

To prove himself the unfeeling monster he had always claimed to be.

The look chastened him. She had given him understanding, acceptance, had argued bright and burning on his behalf. She had let him kiss her, and yet all he could think about was _ more. _

He felt the weight of his own unworthiness like lead against his bones.

He had waited sixteen hundred years for her, was he really so impatient as to ruin it now? Would he not willingly wait another sixteen hundred if she asked? 

“Shall we finish the tour?” he said aloud, striving to appear gentlemanly, poised and calm even as his insides tangled themselves into knots, “you have not yet seen some of the castles finest rooms.”

She hesitated for a moment, surprise colouring her face before she smiled just a little. Just enough.

“I’d like that,” she tucked her hands into her borrowed cloak, “lead the way.”

—-

To say that Darcy was freaking out would be an understatement. He’d kissed her. She’d kissed him. It had been…

She wasn’t sure any language in the world had the words for what it had been. But it was that. _ Majorly._

It was a fairytale, just not the sacherrine Disney concoction she’d always expected. This was an _ old _story, one that hadn’t been scraped away and sanitized over the years. The kind with dark forests and panting beasts with lolling red tongues, death and sex and about a thousand allegories for why good girls shouldn’t sleep with wolves.

The intensity of her reaction to him scared her. She ached with it even now, consumed by a bone-deep urge to strip him bare, skin and soul, in some desperate bid for understanding. To figure him out with her hands, her mouth, drown herself in him until she didn’t care what the answers were.

But she couldn’t.

Not yet at least. Not until she’d thought it through properly, _ logically, _which was pretty fucking difficult considering she didn’t seem to be capable of thinking at all. Her whole brain had become a fuzzy mess of wants and feelings and dazed stupefaction.

“If we turn left here,” Loki startled her back into the moment, gesturing ahead of them with a hand that had very recently been tangled in her hair. Cradling her head as he plundered her mouth like a pirate seeking treasure, “we’ll reach the grand ballroom, or at least what’s left of it.”

“Oh, sure,” she nodded stupidly, following him through a set of wide wooden doors that had somehow survived when so much of the place hadn’t. If a ballroom in a ruined castle in _space _couldn’t distract her nothing could. 

She paused half way into the room, registering what she was seeing at last.

It was distracting alright. 

The scale of the room stunned her, forcing her to turn on the spot just to try and take it all in. It seemed to stretch on forever, mirrors lining one long wall and reflecting the glory of the room back on itself. Over and over in shades of silver and gold. Even broken and burnished they were lovely, ornate candelabras seeming to grow from the glass every few feet or so. The whole effect belonging to another world entirely. 

Like Loki.

Her breath caught as she watched him cross the room to look up at the tree that grew from the centre of the floor. It towered above him, ancient and glorious, its branches stretching up high enough to break through the stained glass ceiling above.

Snow drifted slowly through the open panes, coloured light shifting over his features like something from a dream. Unbearably beautiful and entirely alien to her.

She couldn’t understand him, couldn’t understand _ any _ of it. The kidnapping, the bond, the kiss, the fact he could be such a bastard sometimes but so perfectly charming at others. Vulnerable and strong, kind and cruel. It was too much.

“Why did you kiss me?” She asked into the silence as the thoughts overwhelmed her, “I mean - no, okay I know _why _but… _why_? What… What do you want from me?” 

All of the blood in her body rocketed to her face, cheeks burning at the sudden force of his gaze as he turned to look at her. She couldn’t help but feel like a bug under a microscope, pinned in place as he examined her far too closely.

And far too _silently. _

The only sound in the room was the faint howl of the wind through the ruined towers above and the desperate thunder of her pulse. When he finally spoke it was with a naked sincerity that shocked her. 

“Everything.” He didn’t look away, not even for a second, “I want _ everything _ from you, but I will settle for whatever you would give me. I am... your servant, Darcy Lewis.”

The air felt three times thicker than it should, heavy and cloying in her lungs as the words pinged about in her skull before settling at last.

_ Everything?_

_Her_ _servant_? 

“Do you even like me?” She heard herself ask, tongue bitter with adrenaline and disbelief. Her veins ran hot with nervous energy, a squirming shaking pulse of feeling that made her want to smack him, or run away, or kiss him again.

Anything to shake it loose.

Anything to end this crushing _ uncertainty._

“I didn’t expect too,” he admitted, bowing his chin just a fraction with a chagrined smile, “You are stubborn, reckless, irreverent, charming and _ unbearably _ kind. The truth is I feel far more for you than I would like to admit. But the question is do you… ‘_like’ _ me_?’”_

She swallowed around a suddenly dry throat, unable to look away from him, “I probably shouldn’t.”

It was all too confusing. He’d been through some really rough times, no question, he’d been hurt and he’d lashed out. And she wanted the best for him without a doubt, the second chance Thor had gotten, the peace that came with not having to live up to his family’s insane expectations. But... but he’d still _ kidnapped _her. He’d still hurt her friends. 

Could any circumstances really make that better?

“No,” he agreed easily, “you probably shouldn’t. I am a selfish man, Darcy, I will not hide it from you. I can be possessive, demanding, manipulative and worse besides. 

She knew that. 

She knew all of it and she didn’t _ care. _ He was flawed, broken and beautiful like the mirrors around them, reflecting back a thousand shattered fragments of himself. Shiny and _ sharp._

And she liked him anyway.

She liked his wit, his sarcasm, his easy intelligence and teasing smiles. She liked him. 

Too much.

“To be honest Loki, liking you isn’t the problem,” she pulled her gaze away at last, “the problem is I don’t think I can _trust_ you.” 

The words hit her harder than she thought they would, so glaringly obvious they made her head spin.

How could she be with someone she couldn’t trust? Someone who could switch sides at any minute, who could steal her away to fulfil his own agenda without hesitation - just because he thought he knew best.

Her chest ached, the weight of it sitting like a stone on her lungs. She liked him and she didn’t know if it was enough. 

“I am the God of Mischief,” he said, “I am Liesmith. Silvertongue. Betrayer. They are not titles I have courted but I bear them nevertheless, and I cannot say they are unearned. When it became clear I would not be known for my strength I embraced my cunning instead, all of the trickery and magic that Asgard sneered at.”

Darcy held her breath, suddenly realising how close they’d drifted as she waited for him to continue. Drawn to each other across the empty room like they were magnets. A push and pull she couldn’t seem to escape from. 

He was right in front of her now, close enough to touch. She could brace her palms against his chest if she wanted too, could count his eyelashes as he looked at her with a seriousness that defied words.

“But I don’t want to trick you, Darcy,” he murmured, “or lie to you either. I stand before you exactly as I am, no more, no less. I cannot make you trust me.”

He was right.

There was nothing he could do to _ make _ her trust him_, _no magic spell he could cast to make it all better. It would have to be on her. 

She’d have to give him the chance to hurt her. 

“I understand,” she whispered, “I just… I don’t know how to handle this, Loki, whatever _ this _ is. I have like absolutely zero framework for it.”

She’d never taken a class on demigod dating, there was no back-to-school special on what to do if you soulmate kidnapped you. All she’d ever gotten were snippets of myths and stories, enchanted roses and half-eaten pomegranates. Nothing that actually helped now. 

“Give me this time,” Loki reached for her slowly, giving her every opportunity to move away before he laced his fingers in hers, drawing her hands up between them, “It will be a few days yet until I am strong enough to wield the Tesseract again. A week perhaps. Until then let me prove my sincerity to you, if I can.”

“You still want to go through with your plan then, don’t you?” She asked, holding tightly to him despite herself. An anchor against all the doubts crowding her head, the voices screaming at her not to get in any deeper than she already was when she knew damn well she couldn’t swim.

“Yes,” he nodded, “I can’t protect us without my magic, I cannot be _myself _without it. I have no hope of restoration from Odin, this is the only way.” 

She hated how much she understood, how much she felt for him. To have everything you were stripped away so soon after finding out it had never really been yours to begin with, it made her heart sick.

But still, there was another question. One she had to ask.

“Will you hurt anyone else?”

It was the breaking point, the line she couldn’t cross. She could gamble with her own safety, but she couldn’t risk anyone else. If Loki went psycho freezer again she was out.

She’d have to be.

“No,” he bowed his head, “not if I can help it, but I will defend myself if I am called to, and you as well. I will fight for you, Darcy Lewis, even if you don’t want me too. Nothing will change that.”

She felt her stomach shiver, his eyes absolutely uncompromising as they met hers. Focused in a way that turned her knees into jelly and her heart into a prancing pony. 

A week. A week to explore whatever it was that clung to them like smoke, warming her even as it stole her breath. To see if fate had been right to match them in the first place.

“Dinner,” she said at last, not quite believing the words even as they spilled out of her, “let’s have dinner, tonight, and just... talk or whatever. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

He raised her hand, pressing his lips to the cool skin of her knuckles and making her heart roll over entirely, beating so hard she felt the wall of her chest bruising.

“It would be an honour, my lady.”

It was a risk.

And she was going to take it.

  



	17. Reward

_ Jane_.

How many nights had Thor spent staring at the sky consumed with thoughts of her? The battlefields of Nornheim lost to the memory of a warm desert sun and a warmer smile.

He had lived for battle for so long it was strange to find himself longing for peace now, for the quiet space where she existed in her world of science and exploration. A place without bloodshed or conquest, one he wished he could share with her for as long as he could.

But the fates had never given so freely.

Their reunion was tainted by its very purpose, another tragedy laid tying them together.

“We’re working on a tracking device but the location chip isn’t functioning right,” Jane was saying, her hands fluttering above the mess of wires spread out on the work bench before her, “nothing I’ve done so far has been able to boost its range far enough to pick up the gamma signal.”

Frigga nodded as she joined them looking down at the chaos. Thor had not thought to bring her on this quest but she had insisted, brokering no argument on the subject.

Still, he couldn’t help the childish anxiety her presence wrought in him. Logically he knew she could find no fault with Jane, the scientist was bright and beautiful and kind, but still he worried. 

She was his mother after all, and he wanted her approval.

“Perhaps I can help,” Frigga said into the pause, patting Jane’s arm warmly and making him feel a fool for worrying at all, “it may take some time but I think I can help make it function as you wish. I’ll need a few days though, a week perhaps.”

“Really?” Jane’s expression brightened, made all the lovelier by hope. Even tired and worn she was still the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, “that would… that would be amazing. _ Thank you.” _

“It is the least I can do,” his mother sighed, stealing him from his pleasant thoughts as her face fell, “but Jane, please, what is it my youngest son has done? We have had only rumours on Asgard.”

His heart twisted as a look of abject sadness flickered over her features. His insides hollowing, suddenly desperate and unsure in the way only a child could be when faced with a parent’s pain. With the proof his mother was not as infallible and all knowing as he’d always believed.

_Loki_.

This was all because of Loki. The heartache, the pain. Thor felt it like a fissure in his chest, torn between the love he still held for his brother and the rage that he’d dared cause harm to the world Thor cared so much for. The pain he’d caused their mother. He’d caused Thor himself.

It tormented him, pulling him apart from within as Jane nodded seriously, bracing herself against the workbench as she told them the truth of what had occurred.

She spoke of the Tesseract, how Loki had played pretend at helping Shield only to snatch it from under their noses. About the damage done to the agents who would protect it, no fatalities thank the Norns but close enough to turn Thor’s stomach.

And of Lady Darcy. How Loki had taken her too.

Thor could only imagine the pain Jane felt, Darcy was a particular friend of hers after all, and a good woman in her own right. Brave and witty. She did not deserve his brother’s cruelty. 

Shame rose strong and hard in his gullet, a bitter wave of feeling as he hung his head. Unworthy of meeting Jane’s gaze anymore. Unworthy of even sharing her space, although he could not bring himself to move away.

“This is my fault.”

“Wha- _ what_?” Jane blinked at him in surprise. Always looking for the best in people, even now with his failures so obvious between them, “how do you mean?” 

“If I had not befriended you and the Lady Darcy, Loki would never have taken her,” he shook his head solemnly, “I know he wished vengeance on me for the loss he suffered but, you must believe me Jane, I never thought he’d go so far as this.”

Her mouth parted, surprise colouring her features before she turned hesitant. Straight white teeth sinking into her lip as she turned her gaze away. 

“I… don’t think that’s the reason,” she fiddled awkwardly with her sleeves, apparently fascinated by the rain still beating against the window pane, “you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“If not that, then what?” He asked helplessly, unwilling to be absolved so easily when he knew it must just be her kindness speaking. He was to blame, he knew it in his bones. “Loki has never been one to take hostages in his schemes, this _ must _be an attack on me.”

Thor had done this, he had endangered them. And as much as he worried for Darcy a part of him could not help but be _ relieved_, unbearably grateful that it had not been Jane taken in her place.

The loss of her was more than he could bear to contemplate, throwing into sharp relief how empty his life had been when they were parted.

“They, uh… that is…” her teeth sank into her lip again, eyes closed entirely as the sentence hung unfinished.

“Please Jane,” Frigga spoke into the silence, her words golden and steadying. A rock in the turmoil he tried to latch onto as best he could, “whatever you say shall go no further than this room. You have my word. If you know why my son has done this… _please, _tell me.”

Jane wavered, her eyes fluttering open again. A weight in them he hadn’t expected, a secret he couldn’t speculate at sitting on the tip of her tongue as she looked between them.

“I promised I wouldn’t say anything,” she murmured with a quiet sort of desperation, “so please - don’t say a word to Shield or anyone else but… well, I think the reason he took her is…”

“Yes, child?” The anxiety in his mother’s eyes was almost unbearable, his own stomach tying itself into knots as they waited.

“She… they have each other’s words.” The truth spilled out in a desperate rush, colour burning high in Jane’s wan cheeks as she spoke, “the.. _ soul marks _, I don’t know if they’re real or a magic trick but I think… I think that’s why he took her.”

Thor felt his heart plummet, a stone dropped from a great height as the words jarred through him.

He had forgotten about the mark, it had been so many years since he’d seen it or heard his brother mention it. Loki had always guarded the words closely, and Thor, to his shame, had never pressed him. 

The truth was he had been jealous. 

He had wanted Loki to be happy of course - but he had wanted a mark of his own too. Coveting his brothers destiny, his grand promised love, with a vehmenance. Thor had chosen to ignore the words, casting them aside until they had vanished from his memory completely. Buried beneath everything that had come to pass. 

Perhaps the signs of their estrangement had been there long before Loki’s break from sanity. And perhaps they were not all Loki’s fault after all.  


—-

This was Darcy’s fault. It had to be.

She was secretly a witch or a siren or some other tricky creature capable of bewitchments. 

It was the only explanation for how she could have transformed him so. Loki had become a coltish youth, desperate and mooning every time his thoughts lingered on her. Which was far too often for his liking.

Even now he stood bowed over the sideboard in the kitchen, wracking his brain for what dish might best please her. He could ask her he supposed but he didn’t want to, he wanted to _ impress _her. He had been telling the truth when he told her he didn’t want to lie to her or trick her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t attempt to charm her either.

It shouldn’t be this difficult, he had shared enough meals with her after all. He knew what she favoured and what she avoided, and, of course, of her all consuming sweet tooth. 

In the battle for Darcy’s affections desert was likely his best weapon. But first, a suitably impressive main course was called for, and a light starter perhaps. Cherry tomatoes and cheeses with a sprinkling of spices from the deserts of Muspelheim, all wrapped in flaky pastry and served warm. 

Yes, that would do to start.

First course decided he reached for the _ Vilhaskap, _a seemingly ordinary cupboard he’d enchanted centuries ago during a fit of boredom. Within it any ingredient he wished for would appear, conjured up from across the universe with a deceptively simple spell it had taken him weeks to perfect.

It wasn't something he advertised but Loki had always rather enjoyed the process of cooking. _ Actual _ cooking at least, not the Asgardian fashion of roasting an animal whole and slamming it down on a table with a pitcher of mead and a smile. In its own way preparing a meal echoed casting a spell, not just a skill but an art form when done correctly. Not to mention the fact it gave him time to think, even if all he seemed capable of thinking of was _ her. _

He shuddered as he retrieved a knife and began to dice the tomatoes, irritated at his own idiocy as he started considering the exact colour of her eyes and the angle of her smile. He seemed to be growing more foolish by the hour. 

“Do you mind if I hang out in here for a while?” 

He nearly lost a finger to the sound of her voice, startling violently as the woman herself peered around the door.

“Darcy -” he abandoned his task, turning to look at her over his shoulder. She had her own dress on again, her hair curling neatly around her shoulders and her glasses missing entirely for once. “Please do.” 

Damn him, his mind only seemed to unravel further at the sight of her. He nodded to the table, keeping his back between them as he swiftly pulled down his sleeves and donned his gloves again. 

It would not do to spoil her appetite so early in the evening with the sight of his affliction after all. Not when she seemed to have so thoroughly forgotten it.

They had lost most of the day to the ruins, hours passing as she explored each new twist and turn with an excitement that pulled at something in him he couldn’t explain. It had been a long time since he’d last visited the castle, longer still since he’d truly bothered to look at the place.

To delight in it as she did. 

The twisting line of the widows tower was a wonder to her, the sculpted stone birds in the rookery fascinating, and the throne room an event in itself. Her spirit seemed to lighten after their… _ discussion. _She had given him a week, one he had every intention of using to his best advantage. 

One kiss from Darcy Lewis and he was determined to be her last. Her _only_.

“Will you sit?” He asked, trying to regain the charm he had once been so famed for, “dinner will not be served for awhile I’m afraid. Perhaps a drink to pass the time?”

He had always found it so easy before, honing his silver tongue until it became razor sharp. He could speak honied words to anyone, charming and flattering, teasing and coaxing in turn. A weapon he could wield as easily as breathing. 

Darcy was different, she was so completely without artifice he found his own being stripped away by her very presence. It enthralled him and frightened him in equal measures, still not entirely sure who he’d find beneath the layers of veneer he had built up over the years. 

“Sounds good,” she smiled at him and he lost another layer, “lemme get it though, you look busy enough.” 

“Thank you, the bottles are just through there,” he gestured to the door to the left of the chamber, “take anything you like.” 

“You’re gonna regret saying that,” she grinned, pushing away from the table with a flourish, “Not to brag but I can put back some serious wine. Wait, it _is_ wine right? You guys have that in space, don’t you?” 

“We do,” he called after her as she vanished inside of the cool room, attempting to turn his attention back to the task at hand, “and mead, and whiskey and laveniear.”

He would give them all to her if she wished, and so much more besides. 

“Okay, I’ve never heard of that last one,” her voice carried out to him with the clinking of bottles. He could imagine her searching through them, forehead creasing as she ran her fingers over their dusty labels in search of something she liked, “but if it’s alcohol I am here for it. Oooh!” She emerged with a bottle in hand, her face alight with surprise, “this is some _ seriously _ vintage champagne.”

“One of your worlds greatest inventions,” he smirked, setting the diced tomatoes aside and reaching for the cupboard again. Inordinately pleased with himself for bothering to bring the crate back from a past jaunt in her world.

“Agreed,” she laughed, coming to rest beside him at the counter instead of the table. She was close enough he could smell the clean scent of helioblossoms on her skin. She had availed herself of the potions in the bathroom it seemed, dressing her skin and hair in sweetness, “y’know I’m a little surprised to see you over a stove though, I figured you’d have people to do this kinda thing for you. Or like… a magic food gadget or something.”

She gestured to the chopping board and pans with her chin, her fingers curled tightly against the green glass bottle as she looked up through her lashes at him. 

“Yes well, I’ve always found self sufficiency to be an admirable trait in anyone, Prince or pauper.” 

“I can’t argue with that,” she beamed, “its gotta be thirsty work though, lemme crack the wine already. Hang on-”

She turned away, pulling off the foil and metal with clever fingers before fastening her thumbs beneath the cork and popping it open. The bang echoed off the thick stone walls with the sound of her laughter, the wine bubbling up over her fingers as she shrieked between her giggles. 

The world went into slow motion, his lungs suddenly struggling to work as he watched Darcy raise the bottle. She dipped her head, slurping at the overflowing fizz with a smile. Her mouth parted, fastening around the neck of the bottle and sucking it clean even as her hands dripped with wine.

The tension coiled inside of him, an over-wound spring ready to snap at any moment as he watched her with thinly-veiled fascination.

“Mmm, that’s a lively one,” She laughed, licking the wine from her fingers with a catlike smirk, “you got some glasses, or are we gonna pass the bottle like a couple of kids in a park?”

Heat licked low in his belly, a low level simmer that threatened to boil over completely as she slid her index finger into her mouth, cleaning it thoroughly before releasing it with a breathy _ pop. _

“You seem to be doing an adequate job of that already,” it was all he could do to keep his voice light as the hunger inside him roared. 

If he kissed her now she’d taste like champagne.

Clenching his hands into fists he forced himself to turn away, to pull his eyes from her slick pink lips and focus on the cupboards instead. Glasses. He needed to get glasses.

The sooner he did the sooner he could have a drink and try and calm his aching chest. Wash away the lust that threatened him even now, the undeniable urge to ravish her before the first course had even been served.

“Here,” he said, stretching up to the top cupboard where he kept the best glasses, “let me.”

The pain was immediate, every thought lost to him as his shoulder spasmed and he hissed aloud. _ Fool, _he cursed himself. So caught up in her he had forgotten his injury entirely.

He had compromised his healing, her protection, all because he couldn’t keep his wits about him for five seconds together. He was the worst sort of imbecile. 

“Shit - are you okay?” She beside him in an instant, the bottle abandoned on the counter, “did you pull the stitches again?”

“I’m fine,” he said, harsher than he should have as he fought not to wince. Waving her away with his other hand. 

“You should let me look,” she said, ignoring his brush off completely as she reached for his shoulders, “If it’s bleeding again we might need to-”

_“I said__ it’s fine.” _He snapped, his voice ringing loudly in the sudden hush. Echoing off the rafters as she flinched away from him.

He cringed internally, pain and self loathing vying for control of him as she looked up with confused eyes. 

“I don’t understand,” she said quietly, an edge of hurt in her voice that sliced him down to the bone as she pulled away, “why don’t you want me to help you?” 

He cursed himself a thousand times over, the throbbing heat that seared through his shoulder fading underneath the onslaught of her eyes, so uncertain he found himself hating himself even more than ever. 

“It… is not you.” He heard himself say, pulling his eyes away as he struggled to find his equilibrium again, “there is simply no need to trouble yourself over such an inconsequential thing, and besides,” he paused, mouth twisting around the words, “I would not expose you to that… _ ugliness _ again without good reason.”

“What? You mean the bruises?” Her brows met in the middle, a perfect v of confusion as she shrugged her shoulders at him, “I’ve seen bruises before, dude, they’re really not that big a deal.” 

He bit his tongue, looking at anything but her as the moment held. Did she truly not understand? Had she forgotten so quickly what lurked beneath his clothing?

His own foolishness was a scar in his chest, reminding him of what an idiot he was to think he could ever have her like _ this_. Perhaps they both needed the reminder. 

“Not just the bruises,” he said to the cabinets, “it is endearing though how quickly you forget the horrors my magic has wrought on me, the damning evidence of my true parentage. Rest assured, when my quest is complete you need never see the monstrous affliction again.” 

Neither of them would. It could be buried again and life could begin anew. _ Better. _He would have his powers once more and her at his side, the universe open before them. That was, of course, if she didn’t run and never look back at the reminder of his hideous true nature.

“Loki…” she murmured his name so softly he had no choice but to turn back, gaze snapping to her without his permission. Something in his chest stuttered at the look in her eyes, a sad, still intensity that almost brought him to his knees. “How can you even _ think _that?”

She reached for him then, his body failing him as he froze beneath her touch. A statue as she dragged his hands up between them, working quickly and methodically as she stripped his gloves away. 

The air felt forgein to him, cool against his chafing skin as she looked down at his hands fearlessly. 

“These are both you” She said, lifting his hands higher. One smooth white, the other blue skinned and black nailed. “And as we established earlier, stupid idea or not, I like _ you. _ All of you. Besides,” she dropped his mortal hand, fixing both of hers around his Jotunn skin instead, “do you _ really _ think this could make you any less handsome? Cos spoilers, it completely doesn’t.”

He couldn’t make sense of the words, his head spinning in panicked confusion. Fighting the urge to run even now, to snatch back his hand and cover it until the beast was buried and forgotten. Instead he stood locked in place, pulse beating like some frantic machine. 

Her skin was unbearably warm as she raised his knuckles to her mouth and kissed them. Her lips soft pink and sweet against the stark blue. 

“You’re beautiful,” her words blew warm over his skin, accompanied by another brush of her lips before she pulled back enough to look at him properly again, “_ this _ is beautiful.”

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop himself. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t believe her, not really, not when his whole life had taught him how monstrous the Jötunn were. It no longer signified. 

The only thing that mattered was her hand in his, the addictive warmth of her as he pressed his free hand to her face. Clasping her to him he kissed her with all the longing in his soul.

The fire inside of him burnt brighter still, scorching the inside of his cold, cold skin.

  



	18. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting early this week (despite being waaaay behind on my writing schedule) because y’all were all so kind about the last chapter! Especially you DH, you keep me writing and you know it! 💜
> 
> I should warn ye though gentle readers, things turn citrus-y this chapter... 🍋🍋🍋

Darcy’s heart felt like it was breaking.

She’d never considered how the change in his body might affect him. After she’d gotten over the shock of seeing his blue-ness for the first time, she’d just sort of... _accepted_ it. He was already from another planet after all, did it really matter which one? He was still unbearably handsome, and completely irritating, and _all_ she could think about - with or without the dye job.

It really didn’t matter to her, but the fact that he thought it would, that it did to him... well, it  _ hurt _ . 

She couldn’t fully wrap her head around it, chest aching with the idea of what could have possibly happened to make himself loathe himself so completely. Whatever beef there was between Asgard and Jotunheim it seemed to have hit him hardest, his own self-hatred and insecurity digging into her and making her eyes sting. 

How could his parents have raised him like this? To think he was ugly,  _ monstrous?  _

Angry heat licked at her innards as she kissed his knuckles, trying to cram as much acceptance as she could into each brush of her lips against his pleasantly cool skin. Looking back up at last she prayed to whatever god would listen that he’d understand just how little the difference meant to her.

He was still beautiful, and annoying, and not entirely good. He was still so much more than she could have ever imagined.

Apparently it worked because the next thing she knew he was kissing her.

Her body turned molton at his touch, knees jellifying until it was only her death grip on his shirt keeping her upright. The low level fever she swore she’d been running since he kissed her that morning ignited in earnest, a burning desperation that had her scrabbling to anchor herself against him incase she fell apart entirely. 

His hands were at her hips, fingertips digging in as she caught his bottom lip between her teeth. She tugged at it, earning an animal groan from him that melted her almost as much as his touch did. 

“So…” she murmured when they broke apart at last, trying to remember how breathing and standing at the same time worked and why he was kissing her in the first place, “can I take a look at your shoulder now?”

She felt him sigh against her mouth, “Very well.”

“Atta boy,” loosening the hold she had on him she ran her hands over his chest, pushing the sleeveless leather over-jacket thingy he wore off his shoulders to pool on the floor. It would be the second time since she’d woken up that she’d gotten him naked.

Perhaps fate was trying to tell her something.

Heat throbbed beneath her skin, tongue caught between her teeth as she ran her fingers over the soft fabric of his shirt. One shoulder warm, the other cool, both urging her to touch him.  _ Taste  _ him. To finish the journey they’d set off on so very long ago.

The feeling drove her onwards as she forced her attention to the laces at his throat. Like Loki, they were far more complicated than they looked, and she was just as desperate to undo them.

—-

She was touching him again.

Her fingers worked at the collar of his tunic clumsily, the tip of her tongue pink between her teeth as she tried to unfasten it.

He couldn’t make sense of it. Of  _ her _ . His heart thumped an unsteady beat at her closeness, his disgust at himself getting confused beneath the heavy pulse of desire she awoke in him.

She said she didn’t care. He didn’t know how to believe her but Norns how he wanted too. He wanted to forget himself beneath her hands, to bury himself inside of her and lose track of everything else entirely.

“Wow,” she muttered, pulling him from his thoughts as she got the neck of his shirt open at last, “you space folk really need to invent zippers already.”

He swallowed around a suddenly dry throat, brushing her hair away from her neck. An excuse perhaps to touch her, or to hide the evidence of his true nature from himself in the silk of her hair. 

To let himself forget it, just for a moment. To  _ feel _ .

“There is something to be said for delayed gratification,” he said, voice lower than he anticipated in the stillness of the room, “when you live as long as I have, you learn to appreciate the wait.”

He had had too. Otherwise he would have gone insane waiting for her.

Perhaps he already had.

“Want me to slow down then?” She asked teasingly, fingers drifting ever so slowly down to the hem of his shirt. A drawn out caress that had him shuddering as she inched the fabric up over his hip bones. 

“ _ Darcy-”  _ he said her name like a warning, torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer still. Fixing his arms around her so tightly she could never leave.

“What?” She blinked innocently up at him, teasing him even now, “I thought you  _ appreciated _ slow?’

Unable to bear it he took the shirt from her grasp, pulling it over his head in one ragged motion.  _ Let it be done with, _ he thought,  _ and let the pieces fall where they may. _

“Here,” he said aloud, turning his back to her like the coward he was. His nerves trapped between the agonising sweetness of her touch and the absolute fear of her rejection. A livewire sensation that threatened to devour him whole and spit out nothing but bones.

“Woah,” she murmured, tension clawing at his spine as he tried not to flinch at the sound. At the light brush of her fingers against his skin. Somehow more aware of her than ever now he was blind to her actions, “you heal fast. The bruising has faded so much already.”

Her hands strafed across the muscles of his back, tracing the divide he knew must lie there. Scorching him as she painted circles up and down his skin.

She was temptation itself. A thousand goddesses combined couldn’t compete with her. Pushing him past thresholds he didn’t know he had as his anxiety and arousal grew in equal measures, a heated sort of desperation that spread beneath his skin. It needled him, begging him to turn and take her even now. To seal their bond for good, before she realised her mistake and ran from him again.

“I think a few days and you’ll be good as new,” she murmured, tracing lightning across his nerves, “if that.”

The sensation gripped him, the intimacy of her touch coiling low in his belly. A rough stab of arousal that had him clenching his teeth with each careful touch of her fingers. 

He needed more.

He needed…

Turning on his heel he seized her wrists, holding them away from his oversensitive skin as the madness clawed at him.

“You should go now,” he said, his voice a half growl even as he pressed his lips to each of her palms in turn. A reverence that scared him echoing low in his chest as he tried to hold her away before he did something to drive her off completely.

“Why would I do that?” She asked breathlessly, the ripe swell of her breasts rising and falling in unsteady gasps. Each movement hypnotic and unbearable to his fragile self control.

“Because,” he ground out between clenched teeth, eyes flicking from her chest to her lips to her eyes, “you are driving me to madness, I don’t know how much longer I can fight my desire for you.”

She moved closer, bold and fearless. Hair mussed and lips parted, warm against his skin as she whispered the next words into his ear, “so stop fighting it already.”

—- 

It was as if a dam had broken between them, some final barrier gone, washed away with everything else as he pulled back just far enough to take possession of her lips again. His tongue thrusting slow and deep, a primal rhythm that echoed between her clenching thighs as she gave as good as she got.

It was time to stop pretending.

Stop pretending she didn’t want this, that she hadn’t been thinking about it,  _ fantasising  _ about it, since long before they left Shield. He was here, solid and real and desperate for her, and she wanted nothing more than to give into him. To claim him for her own and damn the consequences.

Even if it was just this, just one night, she’d rather have it then live her whole life wondering.

Her heart was racing, pounding so hard it threatened to crack a rib as she melted against him. She could feel him pressed hard against the softness of her stomach, the evidence of his desire making her gasp.

_ She’d _ done this to him. To an actual bonafide  _ god _ . The power was almost as intoxicating as his touch was. 

He groaned against her skin when they finally parted, deep and guttural as he drew his hand away from her neck. A high pitched sound of protest escaped her as he held himself back from her, still so desperate for more. More kisses. More touches. More  _ him. _

“I would not take you like this-” he panted, blue fingers curled against the air. A distant sort of horror in his gaze as if he couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to touch her with them at all, “as a  _ beast _ . You deserve-“

“I  _ deserve _ a say in the matter,” she caught his hand, guiding the deliciously cool fingertips back to her cheek and down her throat. Head tipping back with a moan as he moulded his palm against her overheated skin, “and I say this feels  _ unbelievably _ good. Give me the beast, Loki. I want it. I want…” her breath caught, unable to believe quite how brazen she’d become as she looked up at him in lust-addled desperation, “I want all of  _ you.” _

“Even this?” He asked throatily, working his thumb slowly back and forth over her collarbone. A whisper light touch that had her curling towards him.

“Yes,” she murmured, tipping her head to give him better access. Her body singing as he dropped his head to kiss the skin there, warm against the chill he’d left. “ _ Especially _ that. That and more.”

“Like this?” He drew back the neck of her dress, straying down to the swell of her breast, first with his hand then his tongue. Mouthing at her skin as his hand sank lower still, teasing as far as the fabric would let him.

Which was not  _ nearly  _ far enough. _ _

_ “Hell yes.”  _ She gasped, not realising they were moving until her ass hit the edge of the table. Trapped against it as the sensation burst through her, a delicious play of contrasts that had her arcing against him.

It wasn’t enough.

She needed his skin against hers.  _ All  _ of it. Warm and cool, smooth and ridged. Every inch of him and every inch of her working together to chase the promise of pleasure that hung over them like smoke.  
  


—-

He was drowning in her. Heat shocking through him in bright firework bursts, sudden and snapping as she lowered her mouth to his shoulder. Pressing lingering kisses along the divide in his skin as if it were the sweetest flavour to her. 

It was more than he could believe, her eagerness shaking him to his core. His whole body was alive with her, blood running hot and heavy in his veins as he lifted her onto the table top. Settling himself in the cradle of her hips.

“I have done nothing to deserve you,” he murmured, sliding his hands up beneath the hem of her skirt, her skin warm beneath the thin fabric of her leggings. Soft and welcoming as he circled his thumbs into her thighs.

“Oh, you’re doing  _ plenty _ ,” she grinned against his mouth, her hands slipping past his hip bones to tease at the waistband of his breeches. Desire battered his self control like a wave as he strained against the touch, already so hard he could barely stand it, “although if you want to do more you could always help me out of this dress…”

“As you wish, my lady,” he bit at her lip, his hands trembling as he drew the zipper down her back. Tracing the bare skin of her spine with his knuckles as she shuddered against him, her eyes so dark he could barely see the blue in them as he helped her pull it over her head. 

Every inch she revealed to him was divinity itself, a perfect vision as she reached to unhook her brasserie. Tossing it aside before her hands returned to his waist, reaching for the fall of his trousers.

Lightning licked down his spine, his whole body tensing as she teased him through the suddenly tissue thin fabric. Every stroke of her clever fingers stripping him of more and more of his sanity.

He was lost to it, to her, to here, his head tipping forward with a shameless moan as he leant into her touch. Hungry for more, for all she would give him and more beside.

He forced himself to stop, memorising every inch of her as he caught her wrist and hauled himself away. The pink burning high in her cheeks, her flushed breasts and swollen mouth. 

“Are you certain this is what you want?” He asked, raising her wrist to his mouth and tasting her mark. It was electric against his lips, the feeling shooting through his veins like liquid gold. 

He wouldn’t push this, wouldn’t trick her. He would have her willingly or not at all.

“Yes,” she replied without a trace of hesitance, her fingers lifting to catch in his hair. Combing through his dishevelled locks as she looked up at him with darkened eyes, “I am completely certain. But are you, Loki? I don’t want you to feel like we have to do this if you’re not ready… if you don’t…”

He silenced her with a kiss, swallowing down the uncertainty in her and replacing it with everything burning inside of him _ .  _ Lust. Hope.  _ Need. _

“Sweet girl,” he breathed the words into her, hands sliding against her thighs and pulling her closer still, “let me show you exactly how much I desire you.”

And he did.

How they made it into the bedroom he would never know, only that, no matter how much he wanted to take her then and there on the kitchen table, or floor, in the study or out in the snow covered dunes beyond, it wouldn’t do. She deserved a softer seduction, one that would sear into the very fabric of her being how right this was.

How perfect.

He laid her in silk and furs, in a bed that had known no other before her and would know no other after, dedicating himself to her pleasure as if it were his own. His body sang with her sweetness, an endless soaring crescendo that rose with the sound of his name on her lips. The desperate, breaking moans that escaped her when he took her at last.

“ _ Yes,”  _ she gasped against the skin of his throat, hands digging low into his back. He couldn’t feel the bruises there now, nor the tension in his shoulder, there was only her. And she was glorious. “ _ Loki, please -  _ you feel so good-”

Her thighs clenched against his hips, every gasp of encouragement fueling him deeper as he slipped his hand between their sweating bodies. Delving into her folds in time with the rhythm of their mating, finding her sweetest spot and teasing his fingers against it. 

She swore then, a magnificent string of profanities that made him laugh despite himself as her head fell back into the pillows. Her nails dug into his ribs, a delicious flair of pain as she arced up against him. 

“Does this please you?” He murmured, Every moment was too much, too good, but he drove onwards anyway. Determined not to let himself finish until he had utterly completed her.

“If you stop now I’ll straight up murder you,” she promised, every word a husky secret as she entangled her fingers in his hair. Tugging at his scalp as she kissed him again. 

“Never,” he promised.

“Loki, I -“ her words were lost to a keening sound of pleasure. Her body writhing and shuddering, wet heat clenched tight around him as she came apart beneath him.

His completion came so suddenly he forgot himself, sucking the air from his lungs as he drove himself deep inside of her. Back twitching as it spilled free in rolling waves of pleasure that wracked him from head to toe.

There was only one thought in his head, one absolute truth as the feeling overwhelmed him entirely.

_ His. _

She was his.  _ Only _ his. It was undeniable now, the physical union only strengthening what he already knew.

The bond was true.

  
  



	19. Wake up Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry for yet another delay - life is completely getting in the way of my writing but thanks for sticking with me anyway!
> 
> 🐍🐍🐍:::IN OTHER MINK NEWS:::🐍🐍🐍
> 
> I have two offerings (art and fic) in this years Marvel Trumps Hate charity fundraiser, so check it out if you’re into that kinda thing! You can get some custom Tasertricks just how you like it AND help out a good cause or two as well! (And earn my eternal love, obvs! 💜)
> 
> Here’s the link: https://www.marveltrumpshate.com/search/Anonymousmink
> 
> 🐍🐍🐍 Now on with the chapter! 🐍🐍🐍

  
Darcy awoke to the knowledge she had had the best sex of her life. Possibly the best sex of  _ anyone’s  _ life. Ever.

She wasn’t sure if it was the soulmate bond or the fact he was… y’know… a gorgeous ancient demi-god with millennia’s worth of practise, but either way it was an  _ experience.  _ Her whole body ached with the kind of bone-deep satisfaction she assumed only existed in dime-store romance novels, leaving her so perfectly relaxed she was amazed she hadn’t somehow become one with the bed whilst she slept. Transforming into a human-mattress hybrid that knew only comfort and contentment.

The boy had  _ skills _ , that was for damned sure.

She was just glad she’d switched out her old birth control implant for a new one three months before she’d left New Mexico, no way she wanted to ruin the evening by getting herself knocked up with a space sprog. Sure she liked Loki, like…  _ a lot, _ probably too much in fact, but she was so completely not ready to bear his children. Hell, she didn’t know if she ever even  _ wanted  _ children at all.

Wait… did he?

Would it be expected of her? To continue the grand family line like some kind of broodmare? She had no idea what the Asgardian cultural viewpoint was on it, or on  _ anything.  _ Marriage, family, fidelity, independence. A hundred thousand super inappropriate questions burning just behind her teeth as she struggled up beneath the blankets. 

She was spiralling and she knew it, all her blissful contentment dive bombed away by reality. Sweat broke out along her spine as she started to panic over things she shouldn’t even be thinking about yet. It was one night, one  _ very _ good night, but one night nevertheless.

There was no point worrying about a future they might not even have together

The thought stung, making her heart clench as she looked over at Loki. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him look so…  _ peaceful  _ before. Something panged inside of her, a tight burst of feeling as she traced her eyes over his features. They were softened somehow in sleep, his eyelashes dark smudges against his cheeks and a faint smile about his lips. 

He’d never looked so handsome.

Inhaling deeply she forced her eyes away. He’d gotten under her skin, there was no denying it, fixing himself in her life like he’d always been there. But she wasn’t going to dwell on it. Nope. She’d do what she always did when her head got too loud.

She’d do something  _ useful _ . 

Creeping out from under the covers she tip-toed out of the door, determined not to look back in case she lost her nerve. There was nothing healthy about staying there staring at his sleeping face for hours like a total creeper. Not when there was stuff to do.

Her first stop was the washroom, cleaning up in record time before heading back into the study. There was clothing everywhere, a smutty trail of breadcrumbs leading towards the kitchen. She picked them up as she went, having to stand on a chair to retrieve her panties from on top of a bookshelf. She wasn’t entirely sure how they’d gotten there but she was silently impressed anyway. 

Her memory obviously wasn’t over exaggerating how wild it had been.

Her dress was still in the kitchen, at a reachable height at least, alongside Loki’s shirt. She added them to the pile she’d collected and left them folded on the table top before turning to the sides. There was still food out, the uncorked champagne sitting untouched beside the abandoned beginnings of dinner. 

Shrugging her shoulders she took a swig from the bottle, letting what was left of the bubbles fizz against her tongue. It was a shame to let good wine go to waste after all. One more healthy chug and she got about herself.

Maybe it was stupid but part of her couldn’t help but think that maybe if she cleared up the kitchen she could clear up her mind as well. Reorganise everything into a neat stack of wants and needs. Simple questions with easy answers.

Placing the knives into the hefty iron sink her mind drifted back to the night before, remembering how carefully Loki had used them, a picture of concentration before she’d interrupted. His brow furrowed like he was making a dinner for the grandest of nobility, not an undergrad who’d spent at least two of the last three years living off of instant ramen and pop tarts.

It was… it was  _ sweet.  _

Her heart squeezed, a butterfly spasm of feeling that had her pulling a face at her own sentimentality. Turning away from the thought she plucked a cherry tomato from a bowl on the side instead, chewing it as she set about sorting the dishes.

She’d always felt better when she could be useful, a fact that had made her a fantastic intern even if she did say so herself. 

Wait… ‘ _ had’  _ made her a fantastic intern _ ?  _ When had she started thinking about it in the past tense? She was  _ still _ an intern. 

_ Wasn’t she? _

A few more days and this would be done, Loki would have his magic back, his  _ life _ back, and she’d return to Earth. To interning and school and the six credits she still needed to graduate. It would be business as usual. 

Like they’d never even met.

“You’re here.”

She dropped the plates. The china rattling like thunder before settling on the counter top mercifully unbroken. 

“Jesus H don’t sneak up on a girl like that!” She squawked, whirling around with her hand pressed to her frantic heart. The abused organ was beating so hard she swore it would crack a rib.

“You weren’t in bed,” Loki said in way of explanation. He was still ruffled from sleep, his hair mussed and his shirt hanging loose from his pants as he padded towards her. 

The effect was utterly devastatingly. No one should be allowed to be so beautiful upon waking. It was just  _ unfair _ . She’d looked like a half-scragged rat before she’d sorted herself out in the washroom, and even that had only taken her down to slightly mussed mouse.

“I uh… thought I’d clear up a bit,” she shrugged, ducking her head away and gesturing to the side with her chin as a blush threatened her cheeks, “get a snack. We never did get that dinner after all.”

“You could have woken me,” he said, stopping beside her almost hesitantly as she made a show of rearranging the half-filled bowls. A stillness to him that made her pause, almost as if he was afraid she might turn away from him even now. 

Like he was still waiting for her rejection.

Her heart squished up like a stress ball, all of her uncertainty flying out of the window as she turned on her heel. Her own awkwardness forgotten completely in the wake of his.

“No way could I do that,” she said mock-seriously, prodding him in the chest as she spoke, “You are  _ way _ too cute when you sleep.”

His eyebrows lifted, a surprised smile stretching his face as the air lightened around them, “I think perhaps that is the first time anyone has dared describe me as  _ ‘cute’ _ before.”

“ _ Dared?”  _ She repeated, scrunching her nose, “well then they’re all cowards, or stupid. Now here-" she snagged another cherry tomato from the side and held it up to him, “sustenance. I’m guessing you need it after last night. There’s half a bottle of flat champagne too if you’re not too fancy to day drink.”

His eyes darkened as he leant to take the offering from her, his mouth warm and wet as it closed around her fingers. Her nerves caught like a match to gasoline as his tongue slicked over the pads of her fingertips. 

“Not quite the feast I intended,” her murmured, his voice low and husky as it rippled through her. Plucking a bass note from her spine that tingled all the way down to her toes.

“It’s the thought that counts,” she said, breath catching as she trailed her fingers lightly over his lips, down his jaw to the marks she’d left on his throat. Plum purple bruises in the shape of her mouth. Possessive.  _ Hers.  _ “I suppose we’re just lucky the castle didn’t burn down whilst we were otherwise occupied.”

“The stove is dwarf-crafted from the realm of Nidavellir,” he replied knowingly, his arms settling around her waist and making her heart skip entirely, “made with a mix of magic and mechanisms that mean it could not have set itself alight if we wished it too, the castle is safe yet.”

“Oooh space tech,” she grinned, reaching over to prod at the ornately carved buttons and dials on the front of the range from the safety of his arms, “Jane would be so jealous, she’d love to get her hands on…”

The words died out, the smile dropping from her face as the thought stuck.

_ Jane. _

Shit. She knew she’d been forgetting something, so wrapped up in herself she hadn’t even  _ considered _ what her best friend might be going through.

Did she know?

Had Shield told her what had happened? They must have, right? And if they didn’t Erik sure would of, he wouldn’t leave Jane hanging in the unknown while Darcy was… well, having a lovely time with her kidnapper slash soulmate actually.

But they didn’t know that. They had no idea how things had grown between her and Loki and all the…  _ stuff… _ that had happened in the meantime, the reasons he had for his actions and her growing feels for him. 

All they knew was that Darcy had been kidnapped by the violent, ice-magic wielding psycho who’d tried to kill Thor.

And Jane… Jane would be driving herself insane worrying about it. 

—

“What is it?” Loki asked, cold dread washing up in his chest as Darcy froze. Her hand falling limp at her side as she looked at the stove with blank eyes.

“Nothing,” she lied, a thin approximation of a smile pasting over her suddenly pale features as she turned back to him, “don’t worry about it.”

It was like asking him not to breathe. He had awoken to a dazed sort of satisfaction that had lain him out for longer than he cared to think about, his chest strangely light as he let himself bask in the warmth of the bed and the softness of the sheets. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt content before, not really. His brief moments of self satisfaction were always accompanied by a hunger for more. Another plan. Another trick. Power or love or recognition. It was always the next thing and the next.

Only there was no next.

There was only that moment. The faint crackle of the fire in the grate, silk and fur against his skin, and Darcy at his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Until he realised she wasn’t at his side at all.

It panicked him, his insecurities seemingly knowing no bounds where she was concerned. The feeling ebbing at her easy smile only to grow again as she froze in his arms. All of his doubts rushed back in like ice water.

“Tell me, Darcy. What troubles you?”

They had come so far together, shared so much. Her sudden withdrawal cut him like a knife. 

She looked at him silently for a long moment, his heartbeat echoing painfully loudly in the hush until at last the fake smile dropped. Her lip caught between her teeth as she nodded, almost to herself.

“It’s just… it’s Jane.” She admitted, “it’s stupid but I only just realised how worried she must be.”

“Jane Foster?” He repeated, confusion drawing his brows together, “the woman you work for?”

Darcy had spoken of her before, but not in detail. He knew only that Darcy worked under her and obviously had some small sort of affection for her. That was all.

He had wondered if perhaps she was the waifish creature he’d seen cradling Thor through the Destroyer’s eyes. If maybe that was why Darcy had chosen not to mention her more, lest she stir his darker side. 

“Kind of,” Darcy nodded, guilt swimming in her eyes as she looked up at him, “she’s my boss, sure, but she’s my best friend too. One of my only friends really. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met and she’s probably sick with worry because... because of  _ me _ .”

“Because of  _ me _ you mean,” he replied, something like guilt rising in his throat. Unfamiliar and cloying, “because I took you.”

A foolish action he still could not bring himself to regret, not when it had brought him here. No amount of almost-guilt could change that.

“Yeah.” She didn’t bother to lie, her voice hushed and still. Suddenly seeming so small to him he could barely stand it, “she doesn't know about what happened after we got here, about… about  _ this _ . Us. She doesn’t know and she must be driving herself mad over it.”

“I did not realise you were so close.”

“I didn’t want to bring her up too much,” Darcy admitted, fingers twisting and turning, “she’s kinda, sorta… well… Thor’s girlfriend. And I know you two aren’t on the best of terms right now.”

As he suspected then.

The truth was he hadn’t paid the woman much attention at all. She was a mortal after all, and one with a penchant for his brother at that, she had nothing to recommend herself with. Besides, he had been so focused on destroying Thor the others around him had hardly signified.

Regret washed through him, a feeling he couldn’t let himself explore as he looked down into Darcy’s wide blue eyes. There was too much there, too many sharp edges that time had yet to blunt. One’s he was not ready to let make him bleed yet.

“Understandable,” sucking in a breath he pulled her away from the counter, guiding her into one of the chairs by the table before taking one for himself. Sat so close their knees were touching as he tried to take charge of himself, “but if she is a particular friend of yours I would like to know of her.”

“It’s more than that,” Darcy’s shoulders slumped, gaze lost somewhere in the space between them, “I owe that woman so much, Loki, you don’t understand.”

“Then tell me,” he caught her hands, lacing their fingers together as he tilted himself further towards her, “I would try to understand if you let me.”

Darcy was silent for a long moment, seeming to measure her words like potion ingredients, as if one wrong syllable might turn them to poison instead. When she did speak it was with a kind of awkwardness he hadn’t seen in her before, a self consciousness that surprised him. 

“Things… well, they weren’t exactly  _ easy  _ for me back on Earth, at University that is. My degree was hanging by a thread at the end of last year, not because of my grades or anything,” she shook her head vehemently, squeezing his hands tight even as she kept her gaze distant, “but because no one wanted to give me an internship. It didn’t matter to them that I was in the top five percent of my class. Nope, one interview and it was  _ ‘thanks but no thanks Miss Lewis, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.’ _ ” 

He saw a muscle in her jaw clench, her eyes focused somewhere behind him as her shoulders tensed and then relaxed. Her breath leaving her in a heavy sigh as her hands pulled from his at last, dropping into her lap instead.

“Jane changed that,” she said, a ghost of a smile haunting her features, “I’m a political science major, which has absolutely nothing to do with her field of astrophysics, but she gave me a chance anyway when no one else would.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, genuinely thrown by her words, and at the cavalier attitude that those around her seemed to treat her with, “why would no one else recognise you?”

She was a singular mind, sharp as a blade behind her charm. Irreverent yes, but no less intelligent because of it.

“Because I wasn’t what they wanted. I don’t dress or look or talk right, and I certainly don’t have the right family name or connections. I don’t belong to a country club and my uncle didn’t help anyone run for senate.” Her eyes met his at last, an old pain in them he felt echo all the way down to his bones, “I am me, only me, and I wasn’t enough for them.”

His heart sank lower with every word, the calm resignation in her voice piercing him like a knife. Recognition bled inside of him at her story. He knew all too well what it was not to be enough. To be othered by the very nature of your being, by the content of your soul. 

And beneath it he felt  _ rage.  _ An all consuming fury that anyone ever had made her feel like she was less. He would freeze them where they stood if he got the chance, shatter them into a thousand icy pieces and scatter them to the winds. A lesson to future generations of the perils of insulting Darcy Lewis. 

“ _ Fools,”  _ he snapped, his voice a low growl of feeling. He forced himself to soften his tone as the anger simmered down beneath a heavy blanket of regret. The gut-punch of pain that he hadn’t done more to acknowledge her worth from the start, “They are all fools, Darcy, if they could not see you for who you are. You are a creature without artifice. You are far more than enough, exactly as you are.”

Damn him, she  _ was _ . She was so completely unaffected she seemed to strip others of their lies and facades by proximity alone. Those who denied her were cowards, afraid to see the reality of themselves beneath her eyes.

When she was deified it would surely be as the goddess of truth and understanding, of easy humour and beauty besides. 

And him the god of lies, what a pair they’d make.

“I… thank you, Loki,” some of the colour had returned to her face, a faint blush in her cheeks as she met his gaze, “I’ve never really talked to anyone about this before and, like... I appreciate you saying that.”

It would not be the last time she heard it from him, he was convinced of that. He would repeat it every day until the sun swallowed the earth if he had too, anything to make her believe it. To make her see her value as he did.

“It seems I owe Jane Foster a great debt,” he sighed as the pause held, the words heavy as he reached to push her hair behind her ear. The locks threatening to obscure her face entirely, a crime he could not allow, “if it weren’t for her, and my idiot brother, I may never have met you.” A less pleasant thought rose, drying his throat as he forced himself to voice it anyway, “Will you go back to your work with her when this is done?”

The thought of it made his stomach roll, a battle for his soul being waged inside of him. His angels wanted her to accomplish her goals, her education, her dreams and desires - but his devils wanted to snatch her away. To keep her all to himself, locked away together somewhere the rest of the universe couldn’t touch them. That way he could drown in her until they’d both faded into stardust.

“I don’t know,” she said, brow scrunching as she worried at her lip, “I don’t know what happens next to be honest. Only… only I’m glad this happened, even if it all blows up I’ll still be grateful for this time. I just wish there was a way to tell Jane I was alright.”

He ached, a bone-deep sensation that seemed to heal him as much as it hurt. The situation was far worse than he ever imagined, and he far more lost to her.

That was the only reason he said what he said next, knowing full well the price it would take from him.

“There may be a way to contact your Jane.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



	20. Missed Connections

  
They’d ended up in the bathroom.

Darcy couldn’t lie, it wasn’t the first place she thought of when holding a super magic ritual, but it didn’t matter. As long as they could contact Jane she didn’t care if they did it through a kids walkie talkie behind sweaty dumpster. 

And, to be fair, Loki’s bathroom was _ much _better than a sweaty dumpster. It had marble floors and a tub so big it looked like it needed a lifeguard on duty. The hot springs below fed directly into it, making the air deliciously warm and minerally.

She hadn’t meant to get so real in the kitchen that morning but it had just kinda all spilt out. All the things she never talked about, that she never let anyone see bother her, it had come to the surface at last.

Maybe it was him, the fact he was so colossally messed up himself, it let her acknowledge her own issues. The fact she was consistently passed over, the fact she was unwilling to bend herself to fit someone else’s mould, how lonely it made her feel sometimes.

Loki didn’t judge. He didn’t try and talk over her. He listened. He looked at her like he could see her, _ all _of her, and he still said she was enough. It was enough to make a girl silly.

Mentally shaking herself she cleared her throat, focusing her attention back on the moment as Loki led her in the opposite direction of the pool, past the wall of shelves full of brightly coloured bottles, to the furthest corner of the room. He stopped beside a large rectangular thing taller than he was covered in a white sheet. Pausing dramatically he waited a heartbeat before pulling it off with a flourish to reveal a mirror beneath. 

Darcy felt her breath catch. It was beautiful. A fairytale creation, it’s frame ornately decorated with flowers and writhing snakes and it’s glass perfectly smooth and silver. 

A _ magic _ mirror. 

_ Of course. _

“You must place your hands on the glass,” Loki interrupted her thoughts, moving to stand behind her, “like this.”

He stretched his arms around her, fingers curling about her wrists. One hand warm. One cool. She exhaled deeply, letting him guide her to the mirrors surface. The glass was icy beneath her palms as she met his gaze in the reflection.

“Got it,” she nodded, hope and fear and excitement bubbling up inside of her like a bottle someone had just shaken.

The thought of contacting Jane had her pulse racing, shifting from foot to foot in front of the mirror as adrenaline flooded her. If they could do this, if Darcy could just let the folks back home know that it was all okay, everything would be better.

Darcy shook her shoulders, trying to loosen the tension from them. If this worked she could finally shrug away the weight of guilt that had dropped on her like a rabid honey badger from a tree. The feeling only compounded by just how easily she’d forgotten Jane in the first place. 

She doubted Jane was as forgetful. Knowing her like Darcy did, she suspected she was probably out there somewhere, neck deep in science formulating some crazy plan to get her back. Worrying and working herself senseless over Darcy’s disappearance and taking Shield with her. 

It’s what Darcy would have done if the situation was reversed and Jane had been the one taken and she the one left behind. Only it wasn’t reversed. Instead of planning and worrying Darcy had been having a great time. The real world fading more and more with every hour she spent in Loki’s company, a quiet sort of spell weaving between them she didn’t want to break yet.

It was selfish. _ She _ was selfish. But she wanted more of it.

She wanted Jane and everyone back on Earth to be okay so she could spend these last few days alone with Loki guilt free. All too soon everything would change again so she had to wring every second for all it was worth, no outside interference or responsibilities. It was just him and her and whatever this thing was between them.

And it was _ definitely _a thing. There was no getting away from that now. Darcy Lewis had caught feelings for a demigod and she didn’t yet know if it was fatal or not. 

“Stay here,” Loki murmured, voice low against her ear as he brought her back to herself. He was still standing behind her, his chest warm against her back as he held onto her for just a little longer than strictly necessary. 

Her skin chilled when he let go at last, a shiver chasing through her as she was left alone to face her reflection.

It was weird. She felt like she should look different. Like older maybe, or wiser, _ tireder _even. Something on her face should show the monumental shake up her life was going through.

Instead she just looked like her. Just plain old Darcy.

“You must keep in contact with the mirror,” Loki said, pulling her from her thoughts again as he wrapped his hands against the frame, “and make haste with your message, the connection will not hold long.”

“I know,” she nodded, the reality of the situation lancing through her. A sharp needle that sewed her scattered thoughts together into one messy knot. Magic was about to happen, _ literally _ . “I can do this, quick and clean. Quick and _ clean _.”

Sure, she had a reputation for being a little verbose sometimes, _ chatty _ even. Some had even dared say rambling before. But hey - if there was a good first time to be concise this was most definitely it.

“Are you ready?” Loki asked, his knuckles white against the gold.

Darcy’s heart was thundering, chin raised as she squared up to the moment.

“Yes,” she lied confidently, “let’s do this.”  


—-  


The feeling rose inside of him, sharp and serrated. A knife he knew better how to wield now, even if he still could not dull its blade as it cut into him. 

The pain didn’t matter, not any more.

Blue-white light crackled over the frame of the looking glass, lacing through the surface as he sent the power outwards. Driving through a thousand thousand reflections as he focused on the one he wanted. The one closest to Jane Foster. The one Darcy needed him to find.

“_Now,” _he ground out between clenched teeth as the connection clicked into place, his stomach churning as ice settled deeper and deeper inside of him. A terrifying spread of coldness that had his skin crawling as he worked the spell.

“Jane!” Darcy shouted at the glass, her fingers pressed hard against its surface, “Jane, you don’t need to try and save me! I’m fine. Loki will bring me back soon, don’t worry - please!”

Her words soothed him even as he felt the magic grind into his skin, a thousand icy grains of sand that stripped the humanity from him. The blade of it twisted inside of him, the pain doubling and tripling as magic hummed in the air. An echoing screech that had the mirror shaking beneath his hands. 

He could feel it building, spiralling, fear tightening his chest as he pulled his hands away at last.

“_Darcy!” _He leapt, no thought of anything but her safety as the glass cracked with a sound like thunder. Shards burst through the air, bright silver glass raining down around them as he tackled her to the ground. His magic flung out in a shield around them as they fell.

“_Woah.” _She murmured, breathing hard as he braced himself above her. Ending the spell only when he was certain the danger had passed and she was safe again.

The silence echoed between them with the panting of their breath, his back tensed hard enough to hurt as he held himself there. Unable to move as adrenaline rushed his system.

“Jesus, Loki,” she breathed in a cocktail of theological confusion, her hands clenched so tightly against his ribs he could feel bruises start to form beneath them, “are you okay?”

“Are you?” He countered, searching her face for evidence of harm. If he had been the cause of more damage to her-

“Yes,” she cut off the thought, her hands relaxing, slipping around to embrace him fully, “thanks to you. That was _ intense.” _

“Jötunn magic is an unpredictable creature,” he breathed, trying to calm his frantic heart with the feeling of her alive and well beneath him, “it is too violent perhaps for these pursuits.”

“Did it work though?” She asked, drawing back just far enough to look at him. Searching his face with wide blue eyes, “did the message go through?”

“I believe so,” he nodded, the adrenaline waning at last as her warmth seeped into him, melting the ice in his veins with every breath they shared, “although I fear it is the only one I will be able to send.”

“Are you kidding, that’s still so amazing!” She clutched him tighter, arching up to kiss his cheek with unaffected gratitude, “you just Skyped across the universe with a freaking _ mirror, _that’s incredible! It’s… _ oh…” _

“What is it?” He asked as her head tilted, her gaze fixed on the side of his face as she drew back just a fraction.

“Your eye,” she murmured, her thumb tracing his left brow before delicately brushing the skin beneath, “it’s beautiful. I mean don’t get me wrong the green is too, but this… it’s _ unique_.”

Confusion furrowed his brow, the feeling mixing with the heat of her touch into something dazed and unsure. It took a full thirty seconds to realise what she must have meant.

And exactly why her touch felt so warm.

Inhaling sharply he turned his gaze beyond her to a large shard of glass that had fallen just outside of their bubble. His reflection looked back in horror. The blue had spread, crawling up his neck and along the left side of his face. It bumped the edge of his mouth, circling around his nose before swallowing his eye entirely. Turning it blood red and unfamiliar in his skull.

“Hey,” slender fingers caught his chin, yanking him back to face her as she wiggled beneath him, “no freaking out again, pretty boy. This is you, this is _ good._”

“Looking upon it doesn’t worry you?” He asked, stomach clenching with the image of his reflection. The horror of it dulled but there still, a nightmare he wasn’t sure he’d ever fully escape. 

“The only thing that worries me is that that spell you just magicked up wiped you out too much.” She replied, demanding his gaze, “You need your stamina, magic man.”

“My stamina is fine.” 

“_Oh_ _really_?” Her hands caught his shirt, arching an eyebrow at him as she lowered her voice a purr, “wanna prove it?”

Fire ignited inside of him, turning the ice to steam in his veins as she moved deliberately beneath him. Her foot dragged teasingly along his leg as she captured his hips between her thighs. Wanton and welcoming as she tugged him closer still, the blue in her eyes lost to the black swell of her pupils.

Desire rocked him, a thirst he doubted he could ever quench, no matter how much she gave. And more than that, he felt _ gratitude _too. It was an unfamiliar sensation, jarring him as he stroked his fingers through the softness of her hair.

He was grateful for her affection, her understanding, her _ lust. _ Grateful to the fates, the Norns, to _ whoever _ had brought her to him, and him to her in turn. 

“I think I could manage,” he heard himself murmur as he braced himself more firmly above her. His reflection forgotten as he closed the final distance between them and kissed her at last. Determined to prove just how grateful he truly was.

Over and over again.

—-

Jane had forgotten how good it felt to be clean. 

She’d turned the water up as hot as it would go, scouring her skin with the Shield issue white soap and scratchy sponge for what felt like hours. Not stopping until the water ran cold and her skin was red and stinging.

Stepping out of the tiny cubicle, she let out a sigh that had been building inside of her lungs for days. A hopelessly frustrated noise that choked in her throat as she wrapped herself in a towel.

Clean or not she was still useless.

She had never been good at being useless. 

Frigga, _ Queen Frigga of Asgard, _had taken over her workbench and the device she’d been working on there. She’d spent the hours weaving spells into the science as the rest of them watched. Golden light and glitter dancing over the burnished metal and grease and leaving everyone breathless with questions and scientific impotence.

It was she who demanded that Jane leave to rest and clean up, insisting it would be some time yet before the device was ready for her to help with. Jane hadn’t had the energy to resist, the weight of the past few days catching up with her at last as she let herself be banished from the work room. 

Thor had been sent with her, _ just in case, _ Frigga said. _ Better safe than sorry. _Something else Jane didn’t have the energy to protest, even if she’d wanted too. Which she didn’t.

Perhaps it was stupid but things felt easier with Thor there, simpler somehow. _ Safer. _The months they’d been apart transforming into minutes.

Closing her eyes Jane listened to the hush, holding her breath until she could make out the sound of snoring from beyond the bathroom door. Shield beds hadn’t been designed with two people in mind, especially not when one of them was a big beefy thunder god, but Thor didn’t seem to mind.

She didn’t either.

Not when it meant she could finally shut her brain off, his arms an anchor against the uncertainty, allowing her to sleep properly for the first time since it had all begun. They hadn’t done anything… _ else… _ just slept. But Jane was still so grateful for it she could have cried.

_ Talk about a missed opportunity, _ Darcy’s voice echoed in Jane’s head as she turned away from the door, rubbing the steam from the mirror above the sink, _ you could have gotten a good swing of his hammer there Janey. _

Jane wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, somehow both chagrined at the memory of her intern and missing her massively at the same time. Darcy would know what to do, what to say, and even if she didn’t she’d say _ something _\- too many times recently Jane had been stuck in awkward silence as her thoughts spiralled and the world went on around her.

_ Soon, _she promised imaginary-Darcy, they’d rescue her soon. With Thor and Frigga to help it was a certainty. 

Facing the mirror Jane raked a hand through her hair, reaching for her brush. It slipped through her fingers as she looked back up, someone else staring at her from the glass.

_ Darcy. _

Jane’s heart stopped, mouth falling slack as she stared stupidly at the mirror. At the intern looking back at her like she’d summoned her.

“_Jane-” _ the familiar voice echoed from the mirror surface, “I- _ zzt- _ d- _ zzt _ \- save me-”

The words came through twisted and garbled, Darcy’s pale face flickering and starting like a badly tuned TV. Her hands were pressed tight to the other side of the glass. Jane scrabbled forward, shoving her own hands against the surface to pull her out only to meet smooth glass instead. 

“_Darcy!” _She shouted, reality catching up to her as she banged at the glass. Panic twisting like a knife in her chest, “Where are you?”

“Loki-” the static only grew worse, the image of her flickering violently as a high pitched whine filled the air, “_ tch - _ bring me back - _ tch- _ c- _ zzt _ \- _ please _ -”

There was a mangled roar of sound, Darcy’s eyes widening in terror as a dark figure knocked her away. Barrelling her out of shot in a fit of violence as the picture stuttered and shook before vanishing entirely.

Jane’s own face looked back at her, too much white in her eyes as she banged on the glass again. Fingers clumsy as she searched desperately over its surface for some trigger to bring it back, a button or a dial or _ anything. _

“Darcy,” she shouted, voice echoing in the tiled room as she scrabbled at the glass, “come back! _ Darcy_!”

“Jane-” she barely recognised her name being shouted at her as strong arms fixed around her waist, dragging her away from the mirror, “Jane please! Look at me, what is it? What has happened?”

Thor was there, pale blue eyes creased in concern. She didn’t realise she was shaking until she felt the steadiness of his chest against her shoulder.

“Darcy,” she heard herself gasp, head spinning out on her in raw panic, “she was in the mirror, the reflection - she said - she was begging me to save her, Thor. And then something happened and…”

Her head snapped back to the mirror as if Darcy might appear in it again at any moment, her eyes wide blue and condemning. _ Save me Jane, _ the words whispered through her, _ bring me back. _

“Magic,” Thor swore softly, the words almost lost to the blood pounding in her ears, “I will get my mother at once, if anyone will know what to do it’s her.”

“Please, hurry,” Jane begged, tears burning in her eyes as she stared desperately at her own reflection, “she _ needs _ us.”

_ Me. _ She thought, _ she needs me. _Jane had taken responsibility of the girl when she’d signed her on as her intern, even if Darcy did sometimes make it seem like it was the other way round. She was supposed to make sure she had work, food, and shelter in a safe environment.

She had _ failed. _

  
  



	21. Question Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so first up I have to apologise for the SUPER LONG delay in chapters atm! This is my busy season, I have eleven deadlines between now and January plus I’m working on my Marvel Trumps Hate fic (Buckynat if you’re into it 😛) and art! 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy the next few chapters anyway, even if they are slow 💜 Your support and comments really do mean the world to me 💜💜💜

  
Two more days had come and gone.

Loki’s shoulder had healed faster than he anticipated, his strength returning by the day until he was almost himself again. And yet he made no move to progress his great plans. The Tesseract remained where he’d stored it and his magic sat dormant beneath his skin, the Orchard unmentioned. 

How could he think of any of it when he’d found himself in a spell beyond his imagination? The days had been lost to exploration, of the castle, the library, each other. A quiet, casual sort of intimacy creeping over them like vines until he found himself willingly bound. 

Even the unforgiving truth, writ in black and white in front of his face, couldn’t break it.   


Loki flicked the page back and forth but the words remained the same. The neatly printed runes told him nothing he didn’t already suspect, no matter how much he might wish otherwise. 

Aesir magic was rooted in the mortal form. 

It was a simple truth, so obvious he had let it slip his mind completely. His own magic, the unique  _ seidr _ of the Aesir, had grown from the form that Odin had given him so very long ago. The form that had granted him the ability to be both Aesir and Jötunn together, to wield the magic of whatever form he chose whenever he chose to.

But no longer, not if he lost the remnants of his mortal skin before they reached the Orchard. Then there would be no restoration. Without the mortal skin necessary for its power to take root, there was a very good chance that the apple would do nothing at all.  That to a Jötunn it would simply be  _ fruit. _

His stomach twisted at the thought. He had already lost so much of himself to ice magic. It had taken an arm and a leg and a wide swathe of his chest, creeping up the side of his neck to claim an ear and an eye too. His reflection was jarring, red and blue puzzle pieces crammed where they did not belong, not that sought it out any more. If he didn’t look he could forget the affliction, existing purely through Darcy’s eyes instead. She still saw him as something desirable, something  _ worthy _ even. 

What hold could reality keep on him with such a drug at hand?

“So can anyone learn magic?” 

Her voice caught him off guard, appearing as if he’d summoned her from the washroom. He looked up from his book as she thumped down next to him on the divan, swinging her legs up into his lap and flexing her toes. Her hair was still damp, the clean scent of helioblossoms lingering on her skin from the long bath he’d lost her too. 

It seemed she’d returned just in time to save him from himself. Again. 

“Well?” Darcy prodded him with her foot, gesturing with her chin to the title of his book,  _ ‘Magickes of the Realms Nine,’  _ “can they?”

“Theoretically,” casting the book aside he caught her ankles, more than willing to be distracted. To burn his worries away in the warmth of her smile. It was a selfish impulse, but he had never claimed to be anything else. “With enough time and practise anyone can be taught to harness some degree of magic. However, like any skill a certain level of natural...  _ aptitude _ is needed for true greatness. Why, do you wish to learn?”

He considered her, the idea was not unpleasant even if it was rare for her kind to harness the power his own took so much for granted. If anyone was stubborn enough to learn, it would be her.

Besides, he was half convinced she was a witch already. 

“ _ Maybe _ ,” she grinned, leaning forward as her eyes sparked with interest, “I’ve got some people I wouldn’t mind turning into frogs. Who taught you anyway? Oooh, is there some sort of space-Hogwarts out there?” He raised his eyebrows at her, “Pop cultural reference. It’s like a fictional school for magic in the Harry Potter books, I will lend you them sometime.”

“So very gracious,” he rolled his eyes, adding another reference to the long list he was keeping. Harry Potter, Netflix, something called  _ Google _ , “but yes I suppose there are some of your... ‘ _ Hogwarts.’  _ Academies of the magical arts, at least, but I did not attend them. I had a series of tutors but mostly I learnt from my mother.”

“Really?” Darcy rested her chin on her hand, head tilting in consideration, “is she like a super sorceress or something?”

“More of a seer,” he shrugged, “she was raised by witches in a valley not so very far from here.”

“Woah woah  _ woah _ ,” her mouth fell open, eyes wide enough to risk injury as she looked up at him, “ _ raised  _ by  _ witches?  _ That is so completely the  _ coolest _ sentence I’ve ever heard. What’s she like? Your mom, I mean?” 

There was a moment of stillness, uncertainty flickering across her face as if she’d just realised what she’d asked, straying into an area they had silently agreed to avoid. His family, adopted or otherwise, was not a topic they broached.

“I mean…” she started, but he held up a hand, determined not to let her take it back. 

“She is… a singular woman.”

He paused, considering his next words carefully. No matter how far he distanced himself from Odin or Thor there were some bonds he couldn’t break. He still called Frigga mother, for all her faults he doubted he could ever do otherwise. Although recently he had been thinking about the  _ other _ woman, the nameless creature who had birthed him.

When his heritage was revealed he hadn’t given her much consideration, not when he found his true father to be Asgard’s greatest enemy, but now he was starting to wonder. The exposure of more of his natural form had raised questions he didn’t know if he’d ever find answers too. 

His features, whilst monstrous, were sufficiently twisted from the usual Jötunn form he couldn’t help but wonder if she were one of them at all. If perhaps he were not a half breed to the Jötunn’s as well, if that was why he had been abandoned.

An oddity in any society he found himself in.

But that was not the question Darcy had asked. No matter who had given him life, it was Frigga who had taught him how to live, and Darcy deserved to know of her. He  _ wanted  _ her to know of her. 

To share more of himself with her than he’d ever even allowed himself before.

“She does not wield the same power in Asgard that my fa- that  _ Odin _ does, but it would be a mistake to underestimate her,” he said, shifting in his seat uncomfortably as he addressed the words to the wall, “She... she has an immense capacity for compassion too. She is…  _ kind _ .”

“She sounds pretty great,” Darcy said softly, the weight of her head against his shoulder anchoring him in place. His heart stuttering foolishly as she curled against his side. 

“She can be incredibly stubborn too,” he added, reaching hesitantly for Darcy and carding his hand through the silk of her hair. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe the liberties she allowed him, “she would like you.”

“Really?” She asked, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve like it held all the secrets of life, “even though I’m… y’know, an average mouthy, mortal kinda girl?”

“There is nothing average about you, Darcy,” he murmured, meeting her gaze from far too close, “I doubt she would see in you anything but what you are. A glorious, intelligent, strong-willed women equal to any of the Aesir. Now,  _ Odin _ however…”

His voice turned teasing, earning another easy smile from her as she butted him gently with her chin. 

“Yeah well, I can’t say I care much about that guy’s opinion,” she pulled a face, “dude’s a menace. Your mom sounds cool though, I think I’d like to meet her one day.”

“I think I’d like that too,” he said quietly, the dangerous flame of hope burning inside of him again. It was foolish, childish even, Frigga stayed at her husband's side, Queen of a kingdom he was no longer welcome in.

But still… the image held. 

If he had not been banished it would have been his mother who would have opened her arms to Darcy first, before he had most likely. She would have arranged at least a half dozen feasts and banquets, the finest dressmakers in the kingdom lined up outside of Darcy’s door before the sun had set. She would have welcomed her to Asgard openly,  _ easily _ .

He swallowed the thought before it could go any further, knowing too well the dangers of dwelling on impossible dreams.

“What of your parents?” He asked instead. His own life had always played out in the public eye, hers was far more interesting to him, and far more unknown, “I don’t think I’ve heard you speak of them.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she sighed, twisting and turning in his lap as she settled into a more comfortable position, “they’re just normal, yaknow? Dad works construction, mom’s a retired teacher. I have an older brother, Bennet, but he was like ten when I was born so I don’t really know him that well. He lives in Canada with his wife, we Facebook message occasionally. Why,” her head tilted, a teasing glint in her eye as she looked up at him, “worried they won’t approve?”

“Should I be?” He asked, unable to keep his itchy fingers to himself as he wrapped his arms around her, tracing patterns against the softness of her stolen leggings. Nonsense runes against the warmth of her thigh.

“Of course,” it was her turn to roll her eyes, the corners crinkling just so, “you are, like, old enough to be my great great great times a hundred grandfather after all. Not to mention the fact they were so set on me marrying Marty Lyman from down the street...”

His head shot up, hands stilling as he narrowed his gaze, “Who is this boy?”

“Only the most  _ eligible _ bachelor in the neighbourhood,” she was a dangerous woman, absolutely tantalising as she tilted her head conspiratorially towards him. Leaving him hanging on every word even as she teased him mercilessly, “He’s a dental student you know, gonna have his own practise one day for sure. His parents and mine are practically inseparable, we used to play together as kids all the time. Even though of course he was a grown man of seven, and me a childish five year old…  _ such _ an age gap I know. Still, my dad always approved of the match, he thought it would be far more practical if I looked close to home for a partner rather than waiting for some magical soul-bonded prince to swoop in and steal me away from all my problems.” She lifted an eyebrow at him elegantly, “because what are the chances of  _ that _ happening?”

“What, indeed,” he said darkly, pulling her more firmly into his lap and holding tight, “I can see now how pale I must seem in comparison to this infamous Mr Lyman. What of your mother though, you told me once that she pressed you to seek out your soul mate, did you not? Surely she would not be so  _ very  _ disappointed by me?”

“Oh no no, you are  _ never _ meeting her.” She poked a finger into his chest, unsettling him for a moment before she met his gaze with another sparkling look, “one sentence in that voice of yours and she’d faint.”

“Really, now?” He caught her hand, kissing her palm quickly before releasing it again, “And why is that?”

“Well, you see...” she paused, biting her lip in a way that drove him to absolute distraction before admitting, “Lewis women have a weakness for sexy accents.”

“You think my accent is sexy _ ?” _

—-

Loki was officially ridiculous.

He was also,  _ officially _ , no longer allowed to say the word  _ sexy _ . Or any other word for that matter. Ever again. It was enough to give a girl a nosebleed.

“Oh please,” Darcy shook her head at him, knowing she was blushing as she shoved his shoulders. Her palm tingling with his kiss even now, “you could talk the habit off of a nun and you know it. My ma would be weak against you, jeez I can just see it now-” she tilted her head back, fluttering her hands wildly as she did her best impression of her mother, “_‘you never told me he was_ _British, Darcy, and so tall. Does he know the Queen, oh he must - just look at him! So handsome.”_

Loki laughed, the sound vibrating through her as he tilted his head back. All of the shadows that seemed to plague him earlier in their conversation had faded away entirely.

She’d been worried when she’d asked about his mom, knowing the tenuous relationship that hung between him and his former family. The half-chewed bonds she hadn’t even begun to untangle. She hadn’t expected him to open up to her, or to ask her about her own.

It still threw her sometimes that a space god prince with family drama on a Shakespearean level could be interested in her incredibly average life.

“She sounds like a woman of excellent taste,” he chuckled, hands roving over her thigh again and making her brain melt like a popsicle, “I hope she is not too disappointed that I am not ‘ _ British _ ,’ although I do know several Queens. She may have to be more specific on that one.”

“Alright, fancy pants,” she nudged her forehead against his chin, breath catching at their closeness and the wonderful distracting feeling of his fingertips tracing over the thin fabric of her leggings, “firstly I’m  _ so _ not getting into the space thing with my parents until I absolutely have to, and secondly some of us weren’t born with titles.”

“Ah...” he hesitated, looking at her through sinfully long lashes with mismatched eyes. She hardly noticed the dissonance in them now, they were both  _ him  _ after all, she did however notice how his hand stilled. Utterly annoyed at the lack of contact even if it did mean she could think in full sentences again, “well, technically speaking… that’s not strictly true.”

Her nose scrunched, reassembling her brain cells one at a time as she took in the sudden seriousness on his face, “What do you mean?”

“You won’t like it.” 

“Well now you  _ have  _ to tell me.” Confusion sparked between her ribs, her fingers tangling in his hair as she settled herself more comfortably against him. Making him look at her properly.

“You  _ were _ born with a title,” he said, his hand lifting to catch her wrist. Thumb brushing over the words hidden beneath her too-long borrowed sleeves, “this mark ensured it. On Asgard you would be Darcy Lokisbond. Her Royal Highness,  _ Princess  _ Darcy Lokisbond.”

“I-” she froze, gaping at him stupidly as the words buzzed about in her head like confused bees, “I  _ what  _ now? 

“It is our way of things in most of the realms, a bonded pair share the highest rank between them.” He pushed her sleeve down, lifting her hand and kissing the gold at her wrist. The feeling sparked through her, lightning through her veins as he murmured, “you were born a princess, Darcy Lewis. A Queen even. If I hadn’t have been banished...”

“I think I’m having an aneurysm,” She heard herself mutter, voice unforgivably strangled as she struggled to make sense of it all.

She wasn’t a  _ princess,  _ she wasn’t even a college graduate yet. Sure she was kind of, sort of,  _ maybe  _ dating a prince but that didn’t mean… it didn’t make her…

_ Oh shit. _

“It’s true, Darcy. And by the laws and customs of Asgard you would be entitled to so much more than my title. You… would be given an apple of Idunn too.” he didn’t look at her when he said it, apparently absolutely fascinated by the cushions next to them, “it is the source of our longevity as a people.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, trying to martial her breath against the sudden onslaught of information and its attendant feelings. Feelings like confusion, and shock, and more confusion and shock, “What  _ exactly _ are you saying?”

“I’m saying you could live as long as any of my people,” when he looked up again there was something in his eyes she hadn’t expected, something so raw and painful it made her breath catch, “it would be remarkably cruel, don’t you think, to find your true match only to lose them so soon?”

Her heart was beating hard enough to burst, lodged somewhere up in her throat as she held his gaze. She knew, logically she  _ knew _ , that he had lived a lot longer than she had, and would continue to do so long after she’d died. But she’d never really let herself think about it. 

Until now. 

She’d live, what, another sixty or seventy years if she was lucky? A lifetime to her but a fraction of a second to him, a blip on the radar. She’d get old and grey and tired and he… he’d stay exactly as he was. Gorgeous and vital and unchanging.

How much time could she  _ really  _ spend with him before the changes hurt too much? A few years? A few decades?

It was a  _ blink  _ to him.

“You… you’d want that?” She asked hesitantly, the nebulous nature of their relationship tangling around her tongue, making it heavy in her mouth as she looked at him, “you’d be okay with me sticking around that long?”

An  _ eternity _ . At least that’s what it seemed to her, an expanse so vast she didn’t have the brain power to imagine it. Despite her best efforts she’d always lived a small life, a student, an intern, a  _ sidekick _ . Always craving more, a chance at greatness, a chance to shape history. Now Loki was offering her the ability to not only shape it but to  _ live  _ it too. To see things unfold she’d never even dreamed of. 

“I have lived more than a dozen Midgardian life times without you, Darcy Lewis, I find I’m not overly eager to do so again. Very soon I will go to the Orchards of Idunn and take an apple to restore what was stolen from me. Let me get one for you too...  _ please _ .”

The please was what caught her. Her head spinning as a thousand possibilities she’d never begun to imagine opened up before her, each as wonderful as they were completely and utterly terrifying. To see change, to see the future, to watch her friends and family age and weaken and  _ die _ . To live in a world without them, in a time beyond anyone she’d ever known. 

The fact that he’d want that,  _ her,  _ forever…

It was too much to take in at once.

“I need to think about this,” she said, panic lacing her ribs together as she pulled away from him. Drawing tighter and tighter until she could barely breathe, “I don’t… I can’t imagine… I need to think about this, okay? When do you think...?”

“The day after tomorrow,” Loki answered her half finished sentence, his hands slackening as he let her go. Eyes true green and red and utterly devastating as she looked down at him, “That is when I must finish what I have set out to do. I truly hope...”

“I know,” she finished for him as the sentence trailed away, so many words hanging unspoken between them that she could have drowned in them, “I’m gonna… go make dinner or something. Yup? Yup.”

Then she did the only thing she was capable of in that moment, she turned tail and fled. 

  
  
  
  



	22. Discussions with Friends

  
Nothing in any of the dozens of centuries of Frigga’s long life had prepared her for the situation facing her.

The whole thing seemed to be a contradiction to her, a fissure that split her down to her soul as she weighed up what she knew from her eyes against what she knew in her heart.

The message in the mirror had been dire if Jane’s recountings of it were correct - which she had no doubt they were. 

She had, after all, had more time to consider Jane and had found the earthly scientist to be intelligent, compassionate, and deeply caring. Jane Foster carried within her a stubborn determination that would not have been out of place in the finest Asgardian warrior.

Thor could not have found a more worthy partner, and she believed Jane loved him just as ardently as he loved her.

His brother however…

Frigga, more than anyone, knew that not everything was always as it seemed. Loki may not have been entirely good but he was still far from evil, and she couldn’t bring herself to believe the situation was as black and white as it appeared.   
  
Still, the situation hurt. This was supposed to be a wondrous occasion;  Loki, who had always been understood by so few, had found his match at last. It should have been a celebration that stretched for _weeks_ _ . _

Instead there was only the fear.  


She found herself consumed with the desperate uncertainty that Loki’s darker nature might have twisted him so deeply he would harm even _her_. His own living, breathing heart.

_Darcy Lewis._

The name was almost familiar to her now, attached to the face Jane had showed her on her cellular communication device. She seemed unbearably young to Frigga, they all did really. An undeniable beauty with an easy smile and sparkling eyes, and an effect on everyone she met it seemed.

She did not deserve such a fate.

And Frigga could not bear to believe it had happened. She had to have hope in her son, had to believe that for all his anger and hatred and  _ despair _ he could not be so cruel as that. 

Still, the sooner she had repaired Jane’s tracker the better. She would rest easier when they were found and balance restored, it wouldn’t be long now. She’d already amplified the range, a few more tweaks and it would be done.

When Loki used the Tesseract again, they would find them. In the meantime Frigga turned her attention to the mirror she’d taken from Jane’s room, magic silver and sparking as she cast it over the surface.

If she could call the message back, if she could just see it for herself… maybe then she could understand. 

Maybe then everything would be made good again.

  
  


—-

  
  


The sun hadn't fully risen yet, hanging fat and low as it crept slowly into the sky. Darcy followed it upwards, the pathway through the ruins was almost familiar to her now. Her stolen lantern - enchanted,  _ of course -  _ heavy in her numb fingers as she chased away the shadows that still clung to the stonework in the early morning hush. 

She’d left a note. A short, scrawled thing on one of the fancy pieces of parchment paper Loki kept lying around, the ink blotchy and uneven where she’d manhandled the quill but very clear on two points. One, Loki was  _ not  _ to freak out when he found her missing. Two, he was not to come after her.

She wasn’t going far after all, just far enough to try and catch up with her racing thoughts.

The corridor split in front of her. She turned left, bunching up her stolen cloak as she headed for the rookery. It was as good a place as any to confront her impending mortality.

Darcy inhaled sharply, filling her lungs with ice cold air as she made it to the top of the stairs. All of her endless questions were waiting for her in the dim stone room, along with a big ass crow. Or a rook maybe? Since it  _ was _ a rookery, 

Darcy didn’t know, ornithology wasn’t exactly her strong suit. 

“I kinda came up here to be alone,” she said to the bird, breath clouding in the air as she slowly crossed the frost-slicked flagstones towards it, “y’know, with my thoughts.”

The bird looked at her with beady black eyes, the room perfectly still for a handful of heartbeats before it ruffled its feathers and turned its back on her completely. Preening itself like she wasn’t even in the room. 

“Okay fine,” she huffed, turning towards the opposite window instead, “you can stay if you want but I’m thinking out loud.”

She had to think, it was way past time. She’d been making herself forget, almost successfully, since Loki had brought up the whole _immortality _thing. 

He’d been surprisingly good about it too, he didn’t push. He didn’t pry. He told her random stories instead as they drank that weird lavender stuff from space. Then they got into a heated debate and an even more heated make out session after.

Still, the thoughts hadn’t fully left her. They’d been waiting for her in the morning light, covering her like the marks he’d left. A veritable dot to dot of love bites that ached sweetly beneath her fingers as she ran her hands over her neck. He’d left them fervently, desperately, sucking his claim into her skin as he’d made love to her like it was the last thing he would ever get to do.

She shuddered despite herself, thighs clenching even now at the memory. The depth of his emotions scared her, shaking her with how much she responded. How much she felt as well _ .  _

When he looked at her she felt like he could see her,  _ really  _ see her, like maybe he was the first person who ever had.

“Loki kidnapped me,” she said to the air in front of her, “he hurt my friends, he stole the Tesseract, and he  _ kidnapped _ me.”

She glanced over at the bird, it’s shiny black beak was now picking at the snow-frosted stonework as if there might be worms underneath. Completely fixed on its mission. Sighing she turned away again, bumping her hip against the cold stone as she drew her gaze across the horizon like the answers to all her problems might be found there.

It wasn’t snowing anymore. The sunrise had painted the clouds outside the windows in shades of pink and orange, reflecting off the landscape below and turning everything into some sort of pristine candyland fantasy. 

It was beautiful, a corner of the universe she didn’t even know existed. And here she was, able to see all of it. _Touch_ all of it. Live and breathe and know it.

Loki was offering her forever.

It was all she ever wanted from her life. Something more. Something special. And it was terrifying too. She was scared of the unknown. Scared that every day she was drifting further and further out to sea until she could barely see the shore.

“He said he would let me go when he finished his plan,” she whispered, “after he goes to the Orchard on Asgard and steals a magic apple to get his mojo back.”

His magic. His _life_. 

She couldn’t help herself, laughing softly at how absurd it all seemed when she said it out loud. The bird turned sharply at the sound, petrol-rainbow feathers fluttering as it peered at her. 

“I know right?” She said to it, “it sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

The bird didn’t reply, since it was still a bird and all, instead it took off from its perch. Great black wings so vast they seemed to block out the sun as it flew away from her, cawing as it vanished into the sky. 

“Wow, rude,” She called after it, voice dropping to a murmur as she turned away, “I didn’t even get to the part about him offering me almost-immortality. Or the fact I’m pretty sure I’m in love with the guy.”

Damn. That part was just straight up inconvenient. 

—-

Loki had turned pacing into an art form. Wearing away at the flagstones as he forced himself not to go after her.

She needed space, she needed to think, he needed to, in her words at least, ‘ _ not freak the fuck out and just wait for a bit.’ _

The nerve of the woman, to come into his life and change it so drastically. To push him beyond his self-imposed prison, battering down the walls of his self loathing and making him face himself anew.

What had she done him?

Ruined him,  _ made  _ him, his head was dizzy with anxiety and stupid, painful, hurtful  _ hope.  _ He hoped she said yes. He needed her to say yes. She had shaken him right down to his core and the thought of a world without her was intolerable to him.

So much so that the dark voice in his head had already began to whisper plans incase she rejected his offer.

How long could he wait for her to come to her senses? A few years? A few decades? How long could he let her live as such a fragile, breakable thing?

What if she sickened, as mortals were wont to do, or was injured accidentally? Would it not be easier,  _ kinder,  _ to slip the apple to her before that. To take the choice from her hands entirely.

She would hate him for it, he knew, but at least she would be  _ alive _ . That would be enough for him.

Hissing out a breath between his teeth Loki turned back to the note she’d left. He’d checked it a half dozen times already, memorising the words in her all too familiar hand. The same scrawl written across his skin in gold. He touched the place she had marked, magic itching beneath his skin as the door creaked open behind him at last.

“Darcy-” his heart caught, lodging in his throat like a stone with the battling sensations of relief and guilt. Pulling his thoughts away from the darkness they had circled he focused on trying to read her face instead, to predict her decision, for better or worse.

He prayed to the Norns he would not be forced to do anything they might both regret. 

“Oh thank God,” her cheek twitched in the hint of a smile as she turned to hang her cloak by the fire, “I was worried you’d go, _like_, full puppy and trash the place whilst I was out. Look at you, you’re not even chewing on the furniture or anything.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, tongue tied into knots as she raked her fingers through damp hair. Her cheeks flushed and nose pink as she held her hands out to the flames.

“Thank you,” she said to the fire, eyes darting up to where he had frozen like the absolute fool he was, “for not coming after me.”

“You asked me not to,” he said, pulse hammering as he crossed the room awkwardly towards her, “in several  _ increasingly _ colourful ways.”

“I needed to think.” She shrugged, turning to look at him. Closing the final few feet between them as she tilted her head, “I talked it over with the birds in the rookery, not that they were particularly helpful.”

“I imagine not,” he agreed, picturing her conversing with the stone statues, her nose scrunched in concentration and her hands waving wildly. It was a perfectly  _ Darcy _ image, so utterly charming it almost made him angry.

“So, anyway,” she straightened up, huffing out a breath as she braced her hands on her hips, “when do we leave?”

“We?” He repeated dumbly, his brain failing him entirely in her presence.

“You’re not leaving me here, don’t even think about it.” She fixed him with a look that could have felled armies, so sharp he could feel it boring into his bones, “we’re in this together. Besides, you’ll need an extra pair of hands. You can’t carry  _ both _ apples and the Tesseract at the same time after all.”

_ “Both…”  _ his mind blanked, fritzing and starting like a half sprung engine as he stared down at her, “you mean?”

“I mean.” She confirmed, “I don’t know where this thing between us is going or what we’re gonna do when we get there, but I figure a coupla thousand years might  _ just _ be long enough for us to work it out. If you still want to, of course.”

Elation surged through him, a raw pulsing feeling that spread from his belly through his veins. Intoxicating and primal as captured her face between his palms.

“Foolish girl,” he murmured, tracking her gaze intently, “As if you don’t know that I do.”

“Foolish boy,” she replied, eyes flashing as her cheek twitched into a wicked smile, “you have  _ no _ idea what you’re signing up for.”

“And yet I am eager to find out…” he traced the swell of her lip with his thumb. Blood racing as her tongue flicked out to taste his skin, a hunger rising inside of him he doubted a hundred thousand years could truly sate.

“Well then,” she murmured, her hands curling into his tunic and pulling him closer. The heat from her touch searing sweetly into his desperate skin, “I say tomorrow we have ourselves an adventure.”

“And today?” He raised a brow at her, his self control stretched close to snapping as his hands sank down to tangle in her silky hair.

She pressed closer still, bodies aligning as she tilted her head back, “oh, I’m sure we can think of something to fill the time.”

He certainly could.


	23. Into The Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for putting up with the wait on these chapters, gentle readers!
> 
> I have the ending all planned out but for some reason writing it feels almost impossible - my inspiration is just drained. Uh sorry to complain, I’ll try and be better! Just know your comments really do mean the world to me and are the only things keeping me from abandoning this entirely tbh - thank you so much for them! 💜

  
Asgard was just as beautiful as the stories had said. At least this part of it was. The leaves danced above them, dappling the grass with an ever changing pattern of sunlight as they shifted and moved.

Darcy tilted her head back and let it wash over her. It was wonderful and warm after so long in the cold, the air balmy against her skin and rich with the scent of life. She inhaled it greedily, lush and green, a memory of a perfect summer day she suddenly ached to relive.

Like coconut suntan lotion and fruit punch, fresh cut grass and that almost sweet plastic-y scent of new pool inflatables. Like that first day of summer in junior high where anything was possible and school would never start again. 

Like  _ freedom _ .

”Keep your focus,” Loki murmured, his hand steady against her back as he led her through the trees, “the Orchard can cause euphoria in the unwary.”

“I’ll say,” she replied in the same hushed tone, unable to keep from sighing happily as they passed through another golden patch of sunlight. The faint breeze playing with her hair and making her heart sing, “I think I could stay here forever.”

She really could, the ache growing inside of her with every second. A honey-thick need to hold onto the moment, to this single perfect snapshot in time. 

And why shouldn’t she? 

Why shouldn’t she bask in it, in a fantasy world that felt realer than anything ever had before. All of the stress and worries that had been weighing her down lifted away like a thousand million butterflies, jewel bright and beautiful as they fluttered away from her.

“Clear your mind,” he interrupted her thoughts, his arm tightening around her waist as he drew her closer to his side, “this is a dangerous place.”

“ _ Dangerous?”  _ She couldn’t help but laugh, a bright giggle escaping her like birdsong as she broke away from him. Stretching her arms out and spinning around and around until she felt as if she might take off, “how could it be dangerous?“

She stumbled, still laughing as she braced her back against a tree to keep from falling, the bark was perfectly steady against her spine as her head tripped and turned. A warm, sweet lethargy washing through her as the world spun.

“Come on, Loki,” she tilted her head back, the cool breeze whispering over her skin as she let the sunlight sink into her, “it’s  _ paradise _ .”

She was suddenly unbearably tired, tired of the uncertainty, the drama, the twists and turns life kept throwing at her. The outside world and her inside feelings. Here she could throw them all away, curl up amongst the wildflowers and sleep in a patch of sunlight like a happy cat. Loki’s chest would make the perfect pillow, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek. Together with no stress, no trouble, it would be… it would...

Cold lanced through her, her breath leaving her in a gasp as she jerked upright. Loki’s hands were tight around her arms, his fingers turned to ice against her, shocking her down to the bone.

“ _ What the-” _

There was a sound like snapping twigs as he hauled her away from the tree, Darcy twisting just in time to see sinewy branches snaking back into place. There was one still caught on her cardigan, it’s tendrils clutching like skeletal fingers around her middle as it snapped from the trunk.

“ _ Shit!”  _ she squealed, hurling it away as she thew herself from the tree trying to swallow her whole, “ _ shit.” _

“Breathe, Darcy,” he coached her, his grip on her arms easing. His hands were back to their normal level of cool, palms soothing over skin that threatened to crawl from her body entirely at the shock, “this place is enchanted, remember? It is designed to trap you before you reach the center. You must  _ stay _ vigilant.”

“Vigilant, okay. I can do that, sure,” she nodded her head with a confidence she didn’t feel, hands still shaking as she reached out to grab him before he could pull away. “let's get out of here, huh? This place is  _ officially _ no longer fun.”

She laced her fingers through his and held tight, certain the trees couldn’t try and eat her again if she just kept hold of him. Her very own walking, talking, magic security blanket.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” he agreed quietly, squeezing her hand as they set off again, “it will be done soon. We’re nearly there.”

She nodded,  cold shivers raking the length of her spine as she looked around her with fresh eyes, trying to remember all the things Loki had warned her about before they’d left. The layers of spells, the hidden traps, it had all slipped away from her in the sunshine. 

She’d gone from Beauty and the Beast to Dorothy in Oz, the real life poppy field pulling at her. It’s invisible golden tendrils growing weaker and weaker the further they walked.

It was growing dark,  less and less sunlight filtering through the canopy above them. Silence creeping in as the trees grew closer together, looming overhead. They looked ancient, gnarled and twisted things, their heavy branches blocking out the sun and leaving Darcy shivering in the perpetual gloomy twilight.

There were no breezes anymore, no birdsong or crickets chirping. The threat of euphoria had been replaced by the threat of well…  _ threat.  _ A sense of unease swelling inside of her with every step they took, turning her feet heavy and numb. 

She wanted to run away.

She wanted to know why she’d demanded that Loki take her with him in the first place and not leave her safe and cozy by the fire.

Oh right, because she was a big brave grown ass lady who could _ totally _ handle whatever Asgard threw at her.  _ Idiot _ . Still, it was marginally better than being all alone in an ice-bound castle on a distant planet with no escape at least. Here Loki could always Tesseract them out if they got into real trouble.

The thought was marginally comforting, even if her grip on his hand was anything but. She was certain she was gonna crush his fingers before they ever reached the centre of the Orchard. If they  _ ever _ reached the Center of the Orchard.

Oh God please let them reach it already. 

The darkness was pressing in on her, the silence creeping over her skin like a thousand spiders. Bloated white things whose bodies had never seen the sun. She could feel their legs scuttling across her neck, her spine, down her arms and across her thighs. The shuddering grew worse, her teeth clenched to hold back the bile rising in her throat with a silent scream.

It wasn’t real. It was just the creepy spell. It wasn’t real. She forced her eyes to the tree line again, the silence deafening her. Something was moving out there. A flicker of white. A slither in the darkness. She bit her tongue, jerking to tell Loki only to find them suddenly on the edge of a clearing she was certain hadn’t been there before. Her hand empty, alone as he stepped into it and peered around. Holding her back for a long moment before finally gesturing for her to join him with a nod.

Her feet moved on autopilot, the terror easing as sunlight washed over the edges of the forest, the trees splitting to reveal a small clearing totally at odds with the darkness behind. She tried not to breathe too easily, remembering all too well how dangerous the light could be too.

“Is that… it?” Darcy whispered, almost scared to make a sound even if the world returned to normal around them. No more crushing unease, no dizzy euphoria, just him and her and a single lonely apple tree in the centre of the clearing.

It was kinda…  _ ordinary _ .

Darcy had been expecting something  _ grander.  _ A towering twisted beast of a tree, its trunk as wide as ten men together and its gnarled branches stretching a hundred feet up in the air. Instead it looked normal _ .  _ Just an apple tree, like you could find in any orchard, it’s trunk sturdy but slender. It’s branches thick with leaves and fruit.

_ Golden  _ fruit.

The only sign it was anything special at all.

“It is,” Loki nodded, “are you ready?”

He offered his hand to her again, her heart thundering louder than ever as she looked at it. Her in the shadows, him in the light.

“This is really it, isn’t it?” She asked, looking up at him, “this is when everything changes?”

Her heart ached with it, a bright readiness that stole the air from her lungs as she realised the weight of the situation all at once. Raising her hand slowly between them as it sank in.

His eyes were perfectly green as they met hers, unbearably intense as he tilted his head at her, “this is when we become free.”

_ Free.  _ The world caught in her chest, turning her into a fish on a hook as she nodded dumbly. Wishing she could think of something clever to say as the moment held. Something profound to mark the importance of it.

Instead she slapped her hand into his with more force that was strictly necessary. Locking there fingers together as she marched forward towards the waiting tree.

“C’mon then,” she said boldly, “let’s get us some apples.”

—-

  
  


The Orchard hadn’t changed.

Then again nothing on Asgard ever did, Loki had never been so aware of its stagnancy before. A golden statue, perfectly still as the rest the universe spun on around them.

Once he had found comfort in it, superiority even in their unchanging ways. Now it just felt stale. Chafing like too-small armour, old and tight when there was so much new possibility in the world. Opportunities for power and mischief and love.

The potential to have everything he’d ever craved hung just above his head, gleaming golden in the light. He just had to reach up and take it.

And soon.

The journey through the Orchard was never easy, but the loss of his Seidr had only impressed that upon him more. The Tesseract had required strength and complete focus to use and even then he could only bring them to the outskirts of the maze of trees, any deeper and their sudden appearance would risk setting off the wards threading through the Orchard.

No, they’d had to approach on foot. His humanity slowly leaking away from him inch by inch as he’d done his best to shield them from the worst of the spells and beasts lurking in the trees as he guided them to its centre. It would have been easier if he only had one person to protect, if he had left her on Vanaheim, or even in the glade of euphoria until he was done, but he couldn’t.

He didn’t know when her comfort had become more important to him than his own but it seemed like it had. A fact no one could have been more surprised over than him.

Even now he could feel the coldness spreading through his skin, leeching the warmth from him as it overtook his body. He had to move fast, quickly and carefully, to claim what he needed before it was too late and the last of his mortality was lost to the Jötunn magic.

All he had to do was gently coax the apples from the tree and they would be free of this place. The world opening before them like a flower to the sun.

Holding his breath Loki approached the tree at last, it was young and old at once. A constant contradiction. It had to be, it was an offshoot of the great Yggdrasil itself. 

He held the image of Darcy in his mind, her palm warm in his, steadying him as he cast careful, gentle spells with magic better suited for base destruction than this soft searching. It was like threading a needle with a hammer. 

There was no magic on the tree itself, it could not be enchanted or tricked, but that didn’t mean the grounds beyond its roots weren’t hexed. 

Finding the air still and safe he moved closer. The bows hung heavy with gold, his fingers shaking as he reached up to pluck the first apple. It was ripe and solid in his hand. A comforting weight that he handed to Darcy, hearing her stash it in her cloak as he reached for the second. For his  _ freedom _ .

Lightning struck, a jarring screech of electricity as the ground shook beneath their feet. It clawed up into his bones, deep and endless as the apple spilled from his fingers and bounced off the dirt at his feet.

_ No _ , he begged silently,  _ not now. _

“ _ Loki,”  _ the voice cracked through him, tearing into his stomach, familiar and unwelcome, “ _ you have gone too far this time.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  



	24. God, Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Holidays lovelies! Sorry for these sporadic updates - ending stories is always impossible especially during this crazy time of year! Your comments are the only things keeping me going tbh 💜💜💜

  
So Loki had returned to Asgard.

Odin’s heart clenched beneath his breastplate, the weight of the realms pulling him down as he stood facing his youngest child. The Einherjars were silent at his back, golden armour gleaming amongst the trees as they stood ready to enact his every word.

His final judgement.

This wasn’t how he wanted it to go, but he no longer had a say in the matter. He had sworn only to take action if Loki defied his banishment and returned to Asgard, and here Loki stood. 

The boy was almost unrecognisable in the weak sunlight. His familiar features painted a deep blue as a thousand and one emotions crossed them. The mortal form Odin had left him in had been stripped away by frost magic it seemed, revealing the truth beneath. 

It stung him to look at it, the stark colorization a reminder of his own acts. His own failures as a father.

“You have broken your banishment and flouted our laws,” he spoke loudly into the ringing silence, projecting a confidence he was duty bound to exhibit, “you have stolen from the Midgardians, taken one of their own as hostage, and now you come here to steal from us too. Do you deny it?”

There was a part of him, small and silent, that could not help but be impressed at the tricksters cunning, had he not discovered Loki’s treachery when he did there was every chance his plan would have worked. The apple would have restored him and Odin would have been none the wiser to the theft. 

But that was not the case.

He had discovered it. And Loki would have to face justice for his crimes. 

“_Well?” _Odin demanded as the silence held, anger rising in his gut with every passing heartbeat. Anger at Loki, anger at himself, anger at it all.

“I deny nothing,” Loki lifted his chin, his face set in an imperious mask as he shoved the mortal behind him with a black clawed hand. Seeking to use her as a hostage perhaps, leverage against the sentence they both knew was to come, “I took only what was mine by _ right, _ to undo the judgement you have so unjustly passed upon me.”

The anger crested, Odin’s teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached as he stared down at the boy. His own hard work thrown back in his face over and over until he felt he would choke on it.

“You knew the rules,” Odin roared, gungnir shaking in his hand as he levelled it at his once-son, “you knew you only had to prove yourself worthy and you could have returned here a prince, we would have welcomed you back with open arms.”

“Do you think me a fool?” Loki’s red eyes flashed, devil bright as ice sparked at his fingertips, “you know as well as I, I could _ never _ be worthy to you. You have made sure of that with every action, every lie, I could never have returned an equal. But it is of no import - I no longer seek such _ petty _ validation, save your _ worthiness _ for someone else.”

Magic hung heavy in the air, acrid and sharp as Odin towered over the scene. Regret cutting through his rage at last, a bitter taste as he shook his head.

“You still do not understand, Loki,” Odin sighed, feeling every one of his years as he met defiant eyes, “it was not me you needed to be worthy of, but the people of our realms. You have used the Midgardians, looked down upon them, and yet it is at their hands you have fallen.”

Loki opened his mouth but Odin silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“No, you should know it true. You would not have been captured here today if it had not been for one you thought so low, without the testimony of this very mortal you sought to enslave you might be free yet.” He gestured to the pale faced woman forced behind Loki, “it is she who ensured your downfall. Guards-”

He signalled the Einherjars with a gesture. The time for talk was done with.  
  


—-

What the fuck.

_ What. The. Fuck. _

Darcy gaped at the words coming from big-and-beardy’s mouth. Odin. This_ had _to be Odin. The eyepatch and the superiority complex gave it away from a mile back. Not to mention the way Loki stiffened like his bones had turned to steel.

She’d watched the confrontation like a cat watching a tennis match as Odin and Loki traded words like blows. 

Her stomach had tied itself into knots so tight she thought she’d earn a Boy Scout badge for it. Her heart had raced as they faced off, lifting when Loki told the old man to shove his worthiness. She’d had to swallow back an audible cheer as she grabbed onto his arm a little tighter. A squeeze of support even as Odin turned his words against him.

As he spat lies like they were the truth.

_ It was she who ensured your downfall._

Bullshit. _ Bullshit. _ She hadn’t told him dick, she wouldn’t- _couldn't_\- betray Loki like that. Not now. Not after _ everything._

“What the actual fuck?” She heard herself say, wishing very voice was stronger than it sounded. A breathy gasp that didn’t do her any favours, “I didn’t tell you anything- I-”

It was too late, Loki had already stiffened beneath her touch. She didn’t know what she was trying to say only that she had to say it. She had to say _ something _to stop the look that had twisted Loki’s features.

It wasn’t even betrayal, that she could understand, it was just… acceptance. Hollow and empty, like he’d expected it almost. The fight seemed to leave him all at once, the tense snap in the air dying out as his shoulders fell and his fingers slackened.

He stepped forward to meet the heavy hands of the guards even as she tried to drag him back, stumbling as a bird burst from the trees, cawing loudly as it settled on Odin’s shoulder.

Big and dark and oh so familiar.

“Oh no,” she whispered as the guards surged forward, a physical barrier between them as she jerked forward again, “no, I didn’t - it was a _ bird,” _panic stole her balance, tightening in her belly as she tripped over her own feet, “I didn’t think- I didn’t mean-”

The guards caught her, the sharp metal edges of their armour digging into her as she tried helplessly to push forward. Only stopping when Loki looked back again, his gaze stopping her breath entirely.

“I understand.” He said hollowly, the words dropping through her like she’d swallowed rocks. Heavy and still and unbearable as they chained him up and dragged him away.

“No,” she whispered, voice getting louder the further they pulled him from her, “no you don’t! Loki - hey, let go of me asshole, _ Loki! _I wouldn’t do that! Loki!”

The last word came out as a cry, bruises forming against her ribs and arms as she struggled against the guards still holding her back.

“Be easy now child,” a deep voice cut through her, shuddering and unwelcome as Loki disappeared from view entirely, “you are safe now.”

“_Like hell I am,” _ she spat, turning her head up to find herself looking directly into the single weighted eye of the Allfather himself, “You- you had no right, I didn’t know it was a… a _ magic bird - _ I was just thinking aloud! How could you? How could you do this to him?”

He was supposed to love Loki. He was supposed to _ support _ him, even after everything Loki had done they still had a thousand years of family behind them didn’t they? Enough for Odin to see his own responsibility in what had come to pass, enough for them to fix it together.

But no. No Odin had cast him aside again, cursed and alone. Breaking the bond between them with his half truths and cold calculation.

She understood all too well Loki’s antipathy for his father now. She understood how easy it would be to hate him.

“I don’t understand,” Odin’s brow creased, drawing himself upwards as he looked down at her, “You are free of him now and may return to your people. Do you not rejoice at this?”

She surged forward, almost breaking her hands on the plate armour of the guards as she lunged at Odin.

“You bastard,” she spat, rage making her reckless, “you have no idea what you’re talking about. Or what you just did to your _ son.”_

Odin reared back like a disgruntled horse, Darcy twisting and snarling as the guards pulled her back. Adding bruises to bruises as she kicked at them. 

“Take her to the infirmary,” Odin spoke over her head, dismissing her without a single look, “she is obviously enchanted. Have the spells undone and then return her to her rightful place.”

Rightful place her ass, her rightful place was wherever _ she _chose to be. And right now she wanted nothing more than to be with Loki and undo her wrongs. She was ready to scream as much when Odin waved his gauntleted hand and everything went black. 

—-

It was a bittersweet sort of irony, Loki thought, to find himself back in the cell where this had all begun.

The surroundings were unchanged. The walls, the cot, the bookshelves and desk. As if the last few months had not occurred, as if the world hadn’t shifted and broken around him and left him clinging to the pieces. 

It was only his reflection that gave it away. Meeting his own hollow gaze in the mirror and finding red eyes staring back, the spell almost complete. His transformation into a monster assured.

How could he blame her for her actions when faced with his reality? For a while he had let himself imagine she found worth in his new appearance, living solely through her eyes when his own were unforgiving. 

In reality, hers had been too it seemed.

He had frozen when Odin had said his piece, painting her as the betrayer. He had become ice, cold and crystalline and unbearably fragile. Ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had, then he could break apart in earnest. Melt away into water and drain into the soil until there was nothing left of him. Until he could grow again perhaps as something new.

Something less tainted.

He wished he could be angry but the rage never came, the familiar fury that had fuelled so many of his actions lost to him as he was dragged away. He didn’t care. Let Odin bury him. Let him cast him into the deepest pit and forget his name. 

Darcy’s betrayal was the final and only confirmation he needed.

He was truly was unworthy. 

Not of Odin or Asgard or anything so inconsequential, but of _ her. _If even she had cast him aside then it was what he deserved. All he could ever deserve.

His fingers found the inside of his arm, as he sat heavily on the cot in his cell. The words a reminder of everything that had come to pass, of the jagged edges of himself he thought he had finally began to round off. He could feel her fingerprints on him even now, they were embedded deep inside his skin, steady and warm. Something that was just his, something they couldn’t take from him.

Even if Odin had tried.

Even if she didn’t want him.

He would have her memory, her smiles. The taste of her kiss and the laugh in her voice. The frightening warmth that had flooded his chest as she’d come in from the cold that last most fateful morning when he’d offered her the world. The uncertainty.

“_Thank you,_” she’d whispered to the fire, “_for not coming after me. I needed to think.”_

He could see her so clearly, the memory bittersweet now. Painful to hold even as he clutched it close to him.

“_I talked it over with the birds in the rookery, not that they were particularly helpful. _”

His heart stopped. Breath catching as the words echoed in his ears, over and over until when his heart kicked in again it felt like a fist.

The logic he so often prided himself filtered in slowly, curling around the edges of his consciousness until it found purchase as he replayed the words over and over. Seeing her hesitant smile, her eye roll.

She had told him she had spoken to the birds in the rookery, he assumed she meant the statues but perhaps she had not. Perhaps she meant Hugin… but then why would she tell him of it? 

Why…

_ Why would she assume the birds of his worlds any different to that of hers? _ Silent, simple creatures without words or allegiances.

He was a fool, the greatest of any realm. His own feelings blinding him to the truth once more, chest aching as he remembered how she’d struggled when they’d pulled him away. He had assumed it had been for show but… but… what was it she’d said? 

The words had been muffled through the blood pounding in his ears, chest aching as he tried to bring them to the surface.

“_No_,” she’d cried, cheeks shining wet with tears “_it was a bird. I didn’t think- I didn’t mean_-”

Of course she hadn’t, she wouldn’t. How could she have known? 

She had been tricked, used by the Allfather as he used them all, and Loki was left once more with the overwhelming ache of his regrets. He should’ve fought harder for her, should have turned to her, _ trusted _ to her. His own self loathing and selfishness blinding him again. 

He regretted that he hadn’t known her sooner.

He regretted that it was too late now.

There were no more apples, no more chances. The sliver of mortality left to him was nothing but a bittersweet memento of another time. Of how things could’ve, should’ve, might’ve been. The cell bound him, his magic trapped within these pale, empty walls. He couldn’t summon the tesseract. Couldn’t go to her.

No, Odin would send her back to Midgard alone and he… he would be left with only his own regrets for company.

  
  
  



	25. Allied Forces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone and happy new year! 💜 so good news/bad news with this fic is that there’s only a chapter or two left now (yay!) but I have also completely forgotten how to write (boo) if anyone finds my writing mojo please send it back to me - it’s been missing since Christmas! 😭

  
It didn’t take long for Darcy to realise she wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Or Vanaheim for that matter.

She awoke to a strange room, the ceiling above her was vast, vaulted white marble lit with a strange amber glow. Pillars rose like sentinels through the chamber, separating strange raised beds and ever stranger machinery.

Choking on her tongue, Darcy tried to lift her unnaturally heavy limbs from her sides. They stuck firm, her neck straining as she tried and failed to struggle upwards from her own bed.

_ Shit._

She couldn’t move.

Bile filled her mouth, stomach lurching as she tried again. They’d restrained her. Deceptively slender gold bands lashed her to the bed even as she fought against them, feeling bruises blossom against her skin as her pulse beat hard enough to hurt. 

“_What the-” _

“Please hold still,” a woman appeared from around a corner, her footsteps hushing over the stone floor as she approached the bed with a tired sigh, “this will only take a few minutes more.”

Her face was all sharp angles, skin pale against the blue silk robes she wore. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly and braided around her head, making her look even sterner than she already did.

This was not a woman who radiated reassurance.

“No way in hell,” Darcy gasped, fear catching in her chest as she pulled even harder against the restraints, “Let me go!”

Shit, where even was she? Was this still Asgard? How long had she been out?

_ Where was Loki?_

“I don’t want to have to cast another binding spell, child,” the woman said sharply, light dancing between her fingertips as she raised them towards Darcy’s head with a look of exasperation, “this will be over soon.”

No. _ No no no._

Darcy cringed away on instinct. It felt_ wrong. _Oily and invasive as the sensation slithered over her skin, finding its way into all her nooks and crannies even as she fought against it. She shied away, spine cracking as she heaved her shoulders back like she might somehow press right through the bed and escape out of the other side.

“What are you doing?” She gasped, feeling truly powerless for the first time in a long time. Even when Loki was at his worst she’d been able to fight back. To give as good as she got.

Here she was trapped, bound, entirely at their mercy. 

Entirely _ alone._

“Looking for enchantments,” the woman’s milk-smooth brow furrowed, a momentary ripple in the perfectly disinterested surface as the magic tightened over Darcy’s skin, “they’re very well hidden I must say, especially for being cast over a _mortal_.”

_ Enchantments? _

Darcy felt like she was on a five second delay, like she’d been shoved under water. Her mouth moving out of time with her brain as the woman worked over her.

What was it Odin had said? In the Orchard? Something about her being enchanted, that Loki had...

Darcy gagged, freezing completely as her breakfast threatened to repeat on her. How could anyone think that Loki would do that to her? 

How could his _ father _think that? 

“I- I’m not _ enchanted_,” she managed to stutter between chattering teeth, flinching away from the spell even as she fought to stay still. To get it over with. Her hands clawing into the smooth leather beneath her as the light pulsed and dragged, “so you can let me go now.”

“Hmm,” the woman’s mouth twisted, eyes passing over Darcy like she wasn’t really there as she pulled her hands away at last. The sudden break in the spell let Darcy breathe again, sucking in a lungful of oxygen like a drowning woman, “I think we need to go deeper. I’ll try Alfeim’s rejuvenation spell next, it may be a little _ uncomfortable _ but it should burn out the enchantment.”

Darcy choked again. A new wave of panic rising in her chest as she struggled to think of a way out. _ Any _ way out. Her mouth already half open when someone silenced her.

“You will do nothing of the sort.” 

The voice cut through the room with an absolute finality, sealing them into silence as the woman who’d been hovering over her deflated like a faulty blow up Santa.

“Your majesty,” she gasped, sinking into a deep curtesy as Darcy pulled against her bonds to try and see the speaker.

“Release this girl at once, Eir, then leave us.”

The stranger’s voice was sharp but as honey gold as her hair, unstoppable as she marched into the room. Her dress was pale aqua silk, swishing over the flagstones like the sea as she lifted her head imperiously.

Darcy recognized that look, she _ knew _it even though she’d never seen the woman before in her life. The thin-lipped moue of disapproval, the arched brows….

Oh… oh _ shit_...

“Um… you wouldn’t happen to be Fri- uh,_ Queen _Frigga by any chance, would you?” She asked through a bone dry mouth as the restraints clicked open at last. Hauling herself off the bed in an undignified scramble just in case they closed again, one eye fixed warily on Nurse Ratchet as she exited the room.

“Just Frigga, please,” the queen’s, _ actual queen’s, _ whole expression changed as the door clicked shut and they were left alone. All of her disapproval melted away beneath a smile like a small sun, “and you are Darcy Lewis. I cannot tell you how good it is to meet you at last. I only wish it were under better circumstances.”

She reached for Darcy’s hand and Darcy let her take it, even though it was probably as sweaty and shaky as Darcy was. 

_This was Loki’s mom._

The woman who had raised him. The one he loved more than anyone in the world. If anyone would help her in this place, it would be Frigga.

“It’s… it’s good to meet you too,” the words stuck in her throat, heat pricking behind her eyes as she turned her gaze upwards desperately, “do you know where he is? I have to find him.”

She didn’t say who. She didn’t have to. 

“As soon as I know, you will,” Frigga squeezed her hands gently, her eyes cornflower blue and so understanding that for the first time since she’d woken Darcy didn’t feel like she was on the verge of drowning any more, “I have sent my eldest son to find out.” 

“Thor’s here?” She repeated dumbly, because _ duh, _of course he was. it was Asgard. He lived here.

“And Jane too, she is waiting just outside for you,” Frigga nodded, turning them towards the door she had entered through, “it seems you are much loved, Darcy, by all who know you. I could not be more grateful the Norns have chosen you to be a part of my family.”

Darcy blinked, tongue suddenly trying its best to suffocate her entirely as she gaped at the woman. _ Jane? _What was Jane doing on Asgard? And how was she supposed to reply to what Frigga had just said?

No one had wanted her... that’s how she ended up with Jane, with Loki... How she’d ended up here.

“I… um... thank you,” her voice was unforgivably small even to her own ears, needing to say more but not sure what or how. Rendered moronic by the kindness and shock and, well, everything else going on too, “he- he told me about you, you know. Loki. He loves you, like, _ a lot_.”

Frigga’s hands tightened around hers, her eyes shining in the amber light like she might start crying at any minute. Darcy was right there with her on that one.

“I have not always been the mother I should have been to him,” she whispered, pulling back at last as they reached the heavy oak door. Pausing in front of it as she swallowed once, back straightening as her face settled into a determined mask, “but I will not make the same mistakes of the past. I will go now and intercede with my husband on Loki’s behalf. Please believe I will do all I can for him.”

“I believe you,” Darcy nodded, trying to steal some of Frigga’s steady courage for herself. Mimicking her pose as the Queen turned to gather up Darcy’s cloak and bag from the side. Holding them out to her like they were equals.

She wished her hands weren’t shaking so much as she took them, the bundle of fabric heavy in her arms as she held it to her chest, it still smelt like him. The fine green wool echoing with the ghost of his presence.

“Go now, Darcy Lewis, do what I could not.” Frigga said, barely giving Darcy time to register the words before she’d kissed her swiftly on the cheek and pushed her out into the corridor beyond. 

**—-**

Jane still couldn’t quite believe it.

Darcy. Here. _ Alive._

Not broken into a thousand pieces like the reflection in the mirror had been. At least like she _ thought _ it had been. Frigga had cleared the mirror with minutes to spare, Jane barely had time to register how vastly different the message Darcy had sent was before the tracker was flashing.

_ Jane, you don’t need to try and save me, _ she’d shouted like she always did when she was on speakerphone, her gaze flickering through the glass, _ I’m fine. Loki will bring me back soon, don’t worry - please! _

She saw the hope in her eyes, the _ happiness, _ the way she smiled at someone Jane couldn’t see. _ Loki_. Loki who had pushed her out of the way seconds before the glass shattered.

She still didn’t fully understand it, her head spinning with the rapid fire changes in circumstance. Relief and fear mixing dizzily inside of her as she waited for Darcy to finish dressung.

“You got my message, right?” Darcy asked from behind the privacy screen. A shifting silhouette rifling through the clothes Frigga had left for them. 

Jane didn’t know what Darcy had been doing before she arrived, but there were rips in the dress she’d been wearing in the infirmary and dirt staining her knees. She’d catalogued it all in the split second before they were hugging, clinging to each other for an eternity in the hallway. All of her worries temporarily drowned out by the _ relief _of seeing Darcy again whole and breathing.

It was only now she had time to process a bit more that the rips and dirt started to worry her again. And the paleness of her friend’s face, the hollowness in her eyes...

“Kind of.” Jane shook her head even though she knew Darcy couldn’t see it. Biting her lip as she paced the room, “It came through kinda garbled, and I thought…” exhaling sharply she turned back on herself, “but Frigga cleared it up. Are you… are you _ really _ okay?”

She needed to know. She has to be certain this want another trick, another cruel illusion.

“I was,” Darcy emerged from behind the screen with a sigh, a stranger in green silk and gold. She was poised in a way Jane had never seen her before, confident even through the pain in her voice as she ran her fingers through her hair, “I really was. but now… I need to find him Jane.”

_ Him _ again. 

Jane shifted uncomfortably, dropping eye contact as she turned away, “You know Loki is the bad guy, right Darce? The things he did…”

He’d tried to kill Thor. Tried to kill _ them. _He’d stolen Darcy and frozen those shield agents. He…

“He had reasons Jane, better reasons than most.” Darcy’s voice was softer than she expected but firm as steel as she straightened up, “if you knew the things he’d been through, the lies he was told... well, it’s not an excuse for what he did, nothing is, but it was pretty bad. And he’s trying to be better now…”

Janes heart squeezed as Darcy trailed off, wrapping her arms around herself as she looked away. No matter what had happened Jane still couldn’t quite seem to square away the version of Loki she’d heard about with what Darcy was saying.

“He’s trying to be better for you?” She asked the younger girl.

“I hope not,” Darcy looked up then, meeting her eyes with a weight to her gaze Jane hadn’t been expecting, “I hope it’s for him. He’s not a bad guy, Jane, he’s not exactly a _ good _guy either but still… he’s more than what people think.”

Jane didn’t know what to say to that, her throat aching with unspoken words as they looked at each other.

Darcy broke first, sighing again as she turned away, “have you seen my cloak? I know I left it here somewhere.”

“It’s over here,” scrabbling to get it, to have some actual purpose again, Jane startled back as something small and heavy fell from its folds. Dropping to the ground with a muffled thud.

They both stared at it silently for a long moment.

“Darcy,” Jane’s voice came out two octaves higher than she expected even as she tried to remain calm, “what is that?”

The silence thickened, drawing closer around them as Jane watched Darcy’s throat work as she swallowed.

“It’s uh... an apple.”

“I can see that,” Jane couldn’t _ stop _ seeing it, staring down at the bright golden skin as a thousand mythologies ran through her head. All the things she’d googled after Thor had left the first time, “I don’t suppose, and this is just a shot in the dark really, that it would happen to be one of those mythical life extending apples would it? The _ source-of-the-Asgardians-powers _ kind of apples?”

“Well…” Darcy hedged, teeth sinking into her lip as she looked away.

“_You stole a magic apple?”_

“_Shh_!” Darcy glared, scrambling forward to grab the apple.

Jane got there first, holding it out of Darcy’s reach 

“I can’t believe you stole-” 

“A bit louder why don’t you,” Darcy cut her off, jumping up to try and grab it and failing miserably, “I don’t think the _ entire _ frickin palace heard you. Besides it wasn’t _ stealing, _it was… it was scrumping at worst.”

Janes mouth slackened, shaking her head as she stared down at the girl.

“Scrump- Darcy, you can’t go _ scrumping _for magic apples,” she dropped her voice to a hush, wincing as it somehow came out even louder than before.

“Why did you think were in the Orchard?” Darcy shot back, giving up trying to grab the apple at last in favour of crossing her arms,“a fun-time vacation?” 

“I didn’t know you were there! They didn’t exactly tell me, one minute the trackers going off, the next we’re being sucked up through an omni-dimensional space rift, and now… now I’m here.”

“Oh, I thought... well, yeah…” Darcy’s face softened, shrugging awkwardly as she gestured her chin towards the fruit still weighing heavily in Jane’s hand, “_that’s _ the reason we came here to Asgard. Loki thought it might break the bullshit spell Odin cast on him.”

“Spell?”

Darcy nodded, the pain in her eyes returning to the surface, “a banishment, but not like Thor. He took away so much Jane, I wish I could explain it all but - but yeah. The apple was the cure, only he gave the first one to me and by the time he reached for the second Odin appeared and things sort of… derailed from there.” 

“_Why_?” Jane heard herself ask, head spinning with all the new information, fragments of a jigsaw she didn’t know how to put together yet. She didn’t even have the picture on the box to guide her, “why did he give you one at all?” 

Darcy looked at her for a long minute before replying, tongue caught between her teeth.

“Because I’m a mayfly.” she whispered at last, “because in what - forty or fifty years - I’m gonna be old. In a hundred I’ll be dead. And Loki… he’ll still be exactly as he is now, just with a scar on his arm in my handwriting. Our lives… it’s a _ blink _ to them, Jane.”

“Darce…” she started but Darcy cut her off.

“Don’t,” her chin rose sharply in the air as she fixed Jane with an uncompromising look, “don’t tell me if Thor offered you the same chance you wouldn’t take it. You wouldn’t want to see history,_ change _history. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t want it too.”

“It’s...” Jane swallowed the rest of the sentence like a stone.

_ It’s different. _That’s what she’d wanted to say, what she left hanging in the air between them.

But was it really?

Darcy had technically spent more time with Loki then she had had with Thor after all, and she obviously cared for him. It would be a lie to say that it didn’t frighten Jane a little, but she couldn’t shrug it off. Not now.

In all the time they’d spent together Jane had found Darcy to be a lot of things, diligent, irreverant, stubborn, kind, annoying, caring, but not stupid. Darcy had _ never _been stupid.

If she wanted this it was for a reason, one Jane would have to trust in even if she still didn’t trust _ him _yet.

“You really care about him don’t you?” She said instead, arm going slack as she held the apple out to her former intern. Knowing something vital had changed between them and yet not quite knowing what.

“Hey,” Darcy took it with a hitch of her shoulder and a self-deprecating eye roll, “_no one _is more surprised about it than me. I kind of might accidentally be in love with him, which probably makes me as much of a disaster as he is.”

The hollows between Jane’s ribs panged, her eyes creasing as she forced herself not to shy away from the statement.

“Why don’t you eat it then?” She nodded to the apple, “it’s got to be better than keeping it in hiding until Odin finds out.”

Darcy lifted the apple, considering it with a furrowed brow, almost as if she’d never truly looked at it before. The soft light made the gold hazy and warm as the young woman bit her lip.

“I… I think I might have a better idea…”

“Oh dear,” Jane felt the corner of her mouth twitch upwards, anxiety and warmth combining as she watched Darcy turn the apple in her hand, “that’s a dangerous face, you have a plan don’t you?”

Darcy’s eyes were sparkling when they met hers, grinning wickedly as she nodded, “I have a plan.”

—-

Frigga didn’t have a plan but she did have righteous indignation burning inside of her and that was nearly as good. She stood tall in front of her husband, chin raised. She had made herself a queen of peace, but that did not mean she didn’t understand the art of war.

“The girl should be back with her own kind by now,” Odin scowled, her every comment met with increasing indignation of his own as he paced their private chamber.

“She is his soul bonded.”

“She-” Odin froze, she could she the exact moment the words sank in. Read it in his gaze as he turned sharply on his heel to face her, “_ what?” _

“It is true,” Frigga folded her arms, head lifted as she met her husband's gaze, “or had you forgotten your son’s words? She spoke them as he spoke hers, they are bound now.”

“But she… she’s…”

“From Midgard?” She arched a brow, “so? Loki is from Jotunheim, I am from Vanaheim… tell me husband - by what criteria do you rank the inferiority of the realms outside of your own? How do you judge us worthy of your own high standards?”

Odin exhaled, seeming to deflate in front of her. A hint of the man beneath the crown breaking through at last.

“She is a mortal.” He said tiredly, bracing his hand against the back of a chair.

She couldn’t help but go to him them, heart thumping painfully in her chest as she laid her fingers over his.

“And so are you, you were even more so once before your mother fed you a golden apple whilst you were still at her breast,” she met his gaze, silently begging him to understand at last, “tell me husband, did you never consider that there might have been another reason for Loki returning here? Something more than just defiance?”

“What are you speaking of?” His brown creased, fingers flexing under hers, turning to lace between her own instinctively. The dance of a millennia.

“As you pointed out so rightly, she is _ mortal._ Your banishment of Loki affected more than just himself, it ensured his mate would be locked from our kingdom, from his home.” She sighed deeply, squeezing his hand, “That they would not get that which our rule has always given so freely to bonded pairs, they would not get a _ lifetime_.”

“You think the apple…”

“Was not just for him.” 

Odin sighed with a sound like a planet shifting, suddenly old and _tired _ as he met her gaze.

“You humble me, wife.” He whispered, holding her hand to his chest for a handful of heartbeats before releasing it, “But you know I cannot change the law for him, what example would it set the people to bend it so for my own? He must earn his place here through his own deeds, I cannot give it to him.”

She only looked at him, shaking her head sadly. 

“I think you could.”

  
  
  
  



	26. Tale as Old as Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was originally going to be two chapters but I decided to post it all together as I’ve already left you guys waiting faaaar too long and otherwise I never would have finished this story!
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience and support, I can’t tell you how much I’ve appreciated it 💜

  
The metallic rattle clank of armour met them as they turned the corner of the corridor, a half dozen gold plated guards stepping forward automatically at their approach

“Who goes there?” The leader boomed, making Darcy roll her eyes on instinct. Obviously the helmets were too tight if that wasn’t clearly apparent.

“It is I, Thor, prince of Asgard,” Thor boomed back, stepping forward in all his manly glory. 

Her adrenaline was running higher than it ever had before, bitter in the back of her mouth as she shot Thor little glances from the corner of her eye. 

She hadn’t told him the plan.

It was strange, she trusted him with her life after all, with Jane’s, but she  _ couldn’t _ trust that he’d go against Odin’s judgement. Not now. He could be so…  _ rigid  _ with his moral codes. Good and bad. Light and dark. It was all so  _ simple _ to Thor.

She only hoped the older Odinson would figure it out before it was too late.

He needed to realise that his father wasn’t the omnipotent arbiter of judgement he thought he was. Odin was flawed, unseeing, something she’d experienced first hand. She’d been on the receiving end of Odin’s treatment of mortals and she had no doubt Jane would be dealt with the same. The day would come where Thor would either have to stand up to his father or break Jane’s heart.

She prayed he would choose right.

In the meantime, she had other things to worry about. Like all those shiny guards. Their demeanour had changed upon the sight of Thor but the door was still barred. 

“You are welcome, my liege,” the lead guard bowed deferentially, hesitating as he looked between them, “it is just… I have been given strict instructions by the Allfather himself that none are to pass this point but members of the royal family.”

“Then I see no problem,” Darcy stepped forward before Thor could reply, head raised with an imperious glare she’d learnt from the very best. “I am Darcy Lewis Lokisbond, princess of Asgard and rightful queen of Jotunheim, you  _ will _ let me through.”

Pulling up her bracelets she proudly revealed the words beneath, silently thanking whatever force was watching over her they hadn’t been written in a more awkward place. It would be far less dramatic or satisfying if she’d had to hop on one leg or whip off her top to show them.

“I-” the guard paled, his jaw slackening as he glanced from the words to her face and back again. She met his gaze head on, making it clear with her eyes alone that she would claw them  _ all _ limb from limb with her bare hands to get to Loki if she had too, “O-of course your majesty, please, enter.”

The door creaked open at last, relief washing through her like ice water as she marched through it. If Thor was looking strangely at her she didn’t acknowledge it. She didn’t acknowledge anything as she swept through into the empty antechamber beyond, her composure held tightly about her.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind them that she even let herself exhale, drawing to a halt in the circular room as Thor gently caught her arm.

“Lady Darcy… is it… is it really true then?” His voice had dropped its boom, sinking to a quiet rumble as he looked at her earnestly.

“It sure is,” she hitched a shoulder, turning her wrist again to give him a better look at the familiar script even as she avoided his eyes. The elegant lines gold against the veins that travelled straight to her heart. 

_ You really shouldn’t be here. _

It had been a curse at one point, then a battle cry, she hadn’t realised then they’d one day become a comfort to her too.

“I admit, I could not fully conceive it but… but I’m glad it is you, La-  _ Darcy _ ,” his eyes creased at the corners, pale blue and so full of feeling it almost hurt to look at him, “I am glad indeed.”

“So am I.” Clearing her throat awkwardly she looked at the elegant marble floor, chest tight with emotions she couldn’t face yet, “but now… I need to see him. Alone.”

“The first door,” he nodded across from them at the wide oak door, “he is down there. I… I will wait here for you.”

“Thank you, Thor.” She took his hand, two of hers barely fitting around his mammoth paw as she met his gaze at last. Wanting him to know how much it meant to her, how much  _ he  _ meant to her. How much she wanted him to make the right choices. 

“I have my own wrongs I need to right with my brother,” he sighed, squeezing her hand tightly, “but I truly am glad to call you sister.”

Darcy left before she could start crying. Knowing for a fact if she started now she’d never stop. Better to keep moving instead, ducking through the door he pointed to into the light beyond. 

The hallway was almost too bright, lit by the empty white cells that lined it, each one barred with a honeycomb golden glow. Each one empty.

Until…

Clenching her hands in her skirt she ran.

—-

  
  


For a moment Loki could only believe he was dreaming again as he bolted to his feet. She appeared like a vision, wrapped in sleek green silk and lovelier than any one person had a right to be as she pressed close to the barrier. 

She was his balm and his torment, the constant shape of his thoughts. Gold glittered at her throat, sparkling off her wrist as her fingers traced the barrier separating them.

This wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t be. If it was he would breach the barrier like water and take her up against him. Sink himself into her until everything else was dust and memories.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, trying to reconcile her with the stark lines of the cell block around them as he pressed his hand hard against the force field. If Odin thought to make her a prisoner he had another thing coming, no matter how helpless Loki was there were some things he could not allow.

Harm coming to her was first amongst them.

“Now, where have I heard that before?” The corner of her mouth twitched, deep blue eyes creasing as she tilted her head up at him, “I’ve been a lot of places and done a lot of things I shouldn’t have, but believe me Loki, this  _ isn’t _ one of them.”

He didn’t know what to say, silver tongue turned leaden as he drew closer still. Scanning the shadows for guards or threats and finding none. Just her. Here. Alone.

“I didn’t tell him you know,” she said, cutting into his thoughts. So earnest it hurt to listen to her, “at least I didn’t think I had… that bird…”

“You couldn’t have known,” he murmured, voice unforgivably low and cracked as he held himself as close to her as the barrier would allow, “it wasn’t your fault.”

It was his. Most things inevitably were.

“But it was. You’re here and it’s…” she swallowed hard, eyes shining as she pressed her hand to his through the thin shield separating them, “but we can fix this. I just need a way to get in there first - is there like a door or something in this force field thingy?”

Her hands strafed across the honeycomb static, fingers bending and creasing as she scrabbled for a crack in it.

“There should be a key on the wall to your left,” he said, mouth dry as he jerked his head to the side, “it allows guards in and out. But it will not work for me.”

Not that the guards had used it often, they took it just long enough to shove his food through the shield before retreating in disgust at the sight of him. He was a threat. A menace.

The monster in the cellar.

And now he was stuck here until Odin said otherwise. Alone in the cell block until the stones crumbled and his name was less than a whisper. 

He couldn’t exit but at least she could enter, they could have this last moment. This last touch before they were separated again by the fates. He was determined to remember every moment of it even as his heart beat in heavy anticipation of their inevitable interruption.

Nothing good could last, life had taught him that all too well. And she was goodness made flesh. 

“This thing?” Darcy asked as she pulled the heavy amulet free, looping it around her wrist when he nodded, “okay, nifty. Let’s try this again.”

The air crackled with electricity, humming around them as she carefully pressed her hand against the barrier again. Teeth sunk hard into her lip as it twisted and swallowed her, letting her through at last.

He caught her as she stumbled, skin aching for hers as she clung to his shoulders.

“ _ Woah _ ,” she whispered, butting her head gently against his chest, “talk about a head rush.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, unable to keep his fingers from the skin-warmed silk at her waist. Hands bracing against her spine as he gathered her close.

“Better now,” her voice was hushed, breathy as she looked up at him, “can you forgive me?”

“I told you, my sweet, there is nothing to forgive,” lowering his head he took her lips with his. A slow, bittersweet kiss that burnt all the way down to his bones as she lifted herself against him, “I am only glad I got to see you again, one last time.”

“One last time nothing,” she said, fierce and desperate as she pulled away, “Here-”

The cold returned as she drew back, just far enough that she could scramble with the skirts of her gown. Digging through them until she emerged with something shiny in her hand.

A golden apple.

“ _ Darcy,”  _ he breathed, eyes widening at the offering as she held it aloft, “what…”

“You gave it to me remember?” She said, “now I’m giving it back to you. You can use it to lift the spell, right? To get your full powers back?”

He had assumed it had been lost in the chaos - to Odin or the orchard. He never thought she’d be able to get it through the palace. 

To  _ him _ .

With it his powers would return, the rough scrape of frost magic replaced with the silk of his seidr. His skin his own once more, his...

His…

“No.” Loki’s throat dried as he spoke, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth as he tried to form the words, “I can’t take this, Darcy. It is your only chance at an Apple of Idunn, the only way to ensure your longevity.”

“Fuck longevity,” she whispered fiercely, eyes shining in the bright overhead lights as she pressed it towards him, “this is all my fault. You shouldn’t be trapped in here and this could help you. I was so proud when you stood up to your… to  _ Odin _ , now let’s really stick it to him. Eat it, Loki, please.”

There was a splintering in his chest, a fracture so great he was sure it should have shaken the castle. Temptation rose, selfish desires rising with it as the apple glimmered and glowed right in front of him. Everything he had ever wanted.

Only it wasn’t. Not any more. The woman holding it was.

“Darcy, no,” he closed his hands around hers, pushing the offering away, “this isn’t the way.”

“But-”

“But nothing.” He shook his head, lies coating his tongue once more as he met her gaze straight on, “it would do nothing for me anyway, there is no mortality for it to work on, you see? The only good it can do now is for you.”

She didn’t need to know about the patch of pink skin above his heart, the anchor for the spell she offered. The  _ freedom _ . It didn’t matter. There wouldn’t be another chance for her to get an apple in her short life time and he couldn’t watch her give it up, not even for him.

Living as a beast in a world with her in it was preferable to a thousand lifetimes as a prince in a world without her. 

“Loki…”

“I am a selfish man, Darcy Lewis, let me be selfish once more,” he jerked his head at her, heart hammering painfully in his chest, “eat it, quickly now before the guards return.”

“Are you sure...?”

“ _ Now _ , Darcy.” He urged, heat burning behind his eyes as he raised her hands. Needing her to finish what they had started so long ago before his demons could over rule his better angels.

He was terrified he might stop her, might take it for himself yet. But no… no, he loved her far too much for that.

Straight white teeth sank into the apples skin, the crisp sound of it smacking in the air as she chewed it’s flesh. One bite, then two, then the pain struck him.

It was lightning in his veins, splitting his heart like an atom as he cried out. Skin burning, crisping away as he twisted convulsively.

“Loki-” his name came through the roar of his pulse in his ears, feeling like he was drowning on his own scalding blood as his knees gave way. She’d dropped the apple, falling to the floor beside him as she scrabbled to catch hold of him.

It didn’t matter, the apple on the floor was green and pocked. Ordinary. All the magic it once held now glowing golden in her throat as it sank like a setting sun into her.

Let the pain come, it was done. She was  _ safe _ . From him, from Odin, whatever fate befell him now, no matter how long he lived or died as a beast, that was all that mattered.

—-

The panic overwhelmed her.

Darcy choked on a silent scream, clawing at Loki’s shoulders as he crumpled to the floor. She knelt beside him, holding onto him as he gasped and shuddered like a dying animal. His breath a rasping screech that tore her right down the centre.

“Loki? Loki, don’t you dare do this to me,” She turned his head towards her, her heart threatening to beat from her chest entirely as the familiar cool of his skin turned searing beneath her fingers. It burnt but she held on anyway, trying desperately to remember anything she could about first aid. She had to keep his airway open and… and… “ _ Guards! Thor! Anyone! Help!” _

Her voice was unfamiliar in the air, a desperate scream as she tried to keep her grip on him even as he jerked and spasmed in her arms.

“Please,” she begged, eyes spilling over with tears as she dug her fingertips into his shoulders, “please don’t die on me now, Loki. I… I love you, you asshole.”

Cracks formed in his skin, gold light bursting from the seams so brightly it blinded her. She gasped, choking on a silent sob as she shielded her eyes on instinct. The heat becoming unbearable as it burst from him in waves.

Her skin felt raw and scorched, the world blurred behind the imprint of the light. Blue burnt into her retinas as she struggled to catch her breath in the sudden echoing silence.

He groaned and she sobbed for real, blinking desperately as she struggled to bring him into focus. Black hair, green eyes.

Green…

“ _ Loki _ ?”

She shook her head, trying to square away the vision. It was him, at least the him she’d first met, before the magic had taken hold. His skin milk pale and unmarked as she reached shaking hands toward him, needing to touch him. To prove to herself this wasn’t some cruel trick of fate.

The skin beneath her palms was warm and smooth, her heart stuttering in her chest as he lifted himself heavily to his knees. His shirt was open at the neck, chest rising and falling unsteadily beneath as he breathed hard.

“What- what happened?” She asked, scanning the length and breadth of him for answers as she tried to wrap her head around the sudden change in him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he whispered, voice low with disbelief as he flexed his fingers in front of him. Staring at his hands like he couldn’t make sense of them himself, “I’m better than fine, Darcy-” when he looked up his eyes were so bright she almost had to turn away again, her face aching from smiling as he looked at her in wonder, “I’m  _ me _ again.”

“You were  _ you _ before,” she said, lacing her fingers between his and squeezing hard, “you’ll always be you, and I’ll always love you for it no matter what you look like, you - you  _ utter bastard _ !” She slapped his arm as a hot wave of anger chased her relief, “I thought - god, if you ever make me worry like that again I swear I’ll-”

“I love you too.”

“You…?”

She gaped at him, her whole body feeling like it was held together by sticky tape and will power alone as she threatened to come apart entirely at the words. Surprise and absolute, marrow deep  _ joy  _ vying for control of her as she stared at him.

“Yes,” the corner of his mouth twitched in a familiar crooked smile, “Even if you do keep swearing at me for reasons unknown.”

“But... What happened?” She asked, unable to keep from gaping as she reached for him again, running her hands through silky black hair as she struggled to understand.

He pressed his forehead to hers, “you broke the spell, you freed me.”

“No,” a deep voice said from the shadows beyond the cell, shattering the fragile moment like glass, “you did that yourself, Loki.”

“Odin.” Loki had moved in a heartbeat, pressing her back behind him as he dragged himself heavily to his feet. 

“Odin?” She repeated dumbly, tensing as she looked up to find the one-eyed wonder staring at them from beyond the cell, “damn,  _ Odin.” _

She was on her feet behind him in a second, hands tensed as if there was something useful she could do with them, like punching Loki’s adopted father in the face was a realistic option. Hell, maybe it was. 

Whatever it took, she’d do it. 

For Loki she’d do anything.

—-

Loki felt his breath catch in his chest, muscles aching beneath his skin with the onslaught of magic. Tense and shaken as he stared through the barrier.

“Loki,” the old man nodded at them, suddenly looking every one of his years. Old and worn in a way gods were not supposed to, “don’t you see? It was never the love of others you needed, no matter what you might have thought, but instead the ability to love  _ them _ .”

His teeth clenched, stomach twisting as he met one dark eye, adrenaline still coursing hot in his veins “I loved you once.”

“You did,” Odin acknowledged with a tilt of his head, “more than I deserved perhaps, but it was not enough, time and secrecy has fractured our bond. No, you needed to find the value of one beyond our twisted orbit, beyond your own history. To put their life before your own, truly and fully without manipulation or guile or any hope of self-service. Truth be told I didn’t know if you could, not after the pain I have caused you, but you did.”

“I see.” 

He didn’t, not fully, his head was too full with Odin’s words for that. Shock thrumming through him like the echo of a drum beat, out of time with his thoughts as he realised the old man’s game.

Had he known about Darcy from the start? Tried to use her against him?

Did Loki even care?

A warm hand slipped into his, grounding him as the tendons in his jaw threatened to snap entirely. He relaxed his mouth, swallowing hard as the angry rush of energy that had surged from the pit of his stomach hushed and calmed.

He didn’t care. Not about the fresh lies or manipulations, even the half hearted acknowledgement of Odin’s own failures couldn’t sway him now. It was too little, too late.

“I am proud of you,” Odin waved his hand magnanimously and the forcefield vanished, “Loki _Odinson_.”

He said the name like a gift but Loki no longer wanted it. It was strange to think that not so long so the words would have been too much for him,  he would have buckled in pathetic gratitude at the acceptance. Or combusted with rage perhaps at it’s lateness, its insignificance at patching the wounds his father had caused.

Now he simply sighed, pulling Darcy from the cell before Odin could change his mind, his fingers itching with unspent magic as he met Odin as an equal.

“I am not Odinson,” he said as his eyes turned to Darcy, his throat suddenly tight with unspoken words as he met her gaze, “or Laufeyson either. I am Loki Darcysbond, it is to that name alone I aspire to be worthy.”

Her lips parted on a silent gasp, the golden light of the hall making her blue eyes practically glow as she squeezed his hand tighter still. Her smile the brightest thing he’d ever seen.

“Still,” Odin said from beside them, suddenly a background figure when he had once been the focus of his world, “you have earned your title. Join us again, son, take your rightful place once more in my kingdom.”

“I am sorry, father,” Loki said, turning away from everything he thought he had wanted, his crown, his standing, the admiration of his family. He faced instead a new future, one entirely of his own making this time, “but I go where she goes.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this little tale! I truly hope you enjoyed it 💜

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are life, comments are love! Even two words means the literal world to me so please please please think about leaving a few in the lil box below! 💜💜💜


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